All the Right Faces
by Sheherazade's Fable
Summary: Done for the Balthy 100 challenge. Going through each day had never been particularly easy for Balthazar. Who said things were going to get any less hectic after thier triumph? Prompt 34 for Kaytori's December 6 Montreal violence against women challenge.
1. Prompt 1: Arcana Cabana

_**A/N: **__The events of the story take place directly after 'Brave New World'. They can be read separately, but they'll make much more sense if you read the other stories first. They'll be in chronological order, if sometimes not in numerical order. Absolutely no slash. _

1. Arcana Cabana

When the Arcana Cabana first came to his attention in 1822 it was a small family-run candy shop. It had been called Marlene's Sweets, a rather unoriginal title. He went there once on his worldly circuit, just to get out of the rain. New York City, with its streets paved in 'gold', or mud rather, weren't the best for walking through in the rain. Balthazar had endured many discomforts in his life, but one he still had trouble with was thick mud that drew you in worse than Persian Quick rugs.

The rain hadn't let up and he had stayed inside. In the end the long time spent there had guilted him into buying something. Normally there would be other customers he could hide behind, but he was unlucky enough to be the only one in the shop. So he had searched around to find something that would stop the baleful stare of the elderly woman behind the counter. It was then that he saw it.

He picked up the tin cautiously and turned it over in his hands.

"Pine nut candies are little-old fashioned, I know," the old woman said.

Balthazar whipped around to find that the old woman was now standing behind him. Few people in the world could brag about surprising Balthazar, but this woman could now be added to the number.

"What can I say?" she said, either not noticing or just not caring about his surprise, "My grandmamma loved them. Her grandmamma used to make them for her and so on. My grandkids hate them, but I'm pretty sure that one of them will make them for their grandkids. It's just one of those things."

She shrugged in a resigned sort of way. He sought for words to express exactly what he was feeling. To her these were just some sort of tradition that had been passed down. For him it was different. He hadn't seen those damn candies in years. They'd gone the way of most things that he'd grown up with; jousting, dragons, knights, all gone.

When he was younger he remembered the day Merlin came to claim him as his apprentice. Letholdus, his older brother, had put up a valiant fight to keep him with him. It was a tense day between both his future master and his brother. Everyone in the castle had picked up on it and the servants walked as though on eggshells. Even the weather seemed to be holding its breath, the day dawned both silent and dreary.

Although he hadn't been allowed down in the Great Hall since Merlin had come to visit and the ring had reacted he was still able to listen. He was a resourceful child of ten and the castle walls weren't thick enough to keep him out. Anything he didn't hear he could find out by disguising himself and going down to the servant's quarters. They gossiped incessantly so it wasn't hard to find out too many details.

The first day Merlin asked Letholdus has flat out refused. As Merlin kept asking and arguing he started to argue right back. There were thousands of reasons Letholdus had used to ward the old man's offer away. Balthazar's parents had died less than a year ago; displacing him could be disastrous. Balthazar was training as his page to one day become a knight, it was ridiculous to make him change professions so soon.

Merlin had been just as persistent. The ring had reacted to him, he was going to be a great sorcerer one day. That was his true calling, not as a knight. As the younger second son, even one that had lost his parents, what hope did he really have of making his way in the world? It was an undeniable truth that most younger sons were sent to the church to prevent the division of the estate. The estate of the Blakesons was small enough as it was. There would very likely not be a good place for him at court either.

In the end Letholdus had grudgingly relented. A rift between the two of them had opened that day though. Balthazar could never remember the two of them meeting face-to-face on the most formal occasions. They would only exchange the briefest and most formal of greetings. Even when Balthazar was a fully grown man and an amazing sorcerer the two had never reconciled. The two people who had had the biggest hand in raising him couldn't stand the sight of each other.

On that day Letholdus himself had saddled up Balthazar's horse. It was the job of one of the grooms to do that, but his brother claimed the right that day. He saw them off as far as the ford that partitioned his lands. On the other side Merlin's other apprentice, Horvath, was waiting for him, back from a visit to his own family. They had said their goodbyes and Letholdus had journeyed back. Balthazar would not see his brother for another year.

That night he was ushered to rooms in a strange castle. Both Merlin and Horvath had been nice enough, mindful of his situation. It didn't help much though. He had fought back tears as he went through his bags and put their contents in a wooden chest. At the bottom of his saddlebag, underneath a cloak and tunic, he found a small leather bag that he'd never seen before. It was chock full of pine nut candies, something he was allowed only on very special occasions.

He had given in to tears then, the gesture was too much to ignore. Yet, eating a few that night had given him hope that his new life would still have traces of the old. For months the smell of pine nuts and sugar had clung to the leather. Balthazar would sniff it from time to time to breathe in deeply the smell of home.

Finding them again gave him a surge of hope that things truly could come back. He fingered the tin, turning it over in his hands again.

"I'll take them," he said.

The old woman had smiled and wrapped them up in old brown paper. That was the first of the many visits he made. He always took good care to make sure that they never recognized him, but he had a feeling they knew anyways. He was probably the only one who bought the pine nut candies after all. It was an acquired flavor for the people of the 1800's. Balthazar didn't buy them for the flavor though, but for the hope.

When he came in 1870 the store had been bought out by two brothers. He had felt his heart sink when he saw that the sign over the door had changed. It was a bank then and he felt a sense of both anger and loss at the development. How dare they take this away from him, this one little thing? He had stared at the shop venomously before turning on his heel and storming away into the night.

Eighteen years later he found himself walking down that same street. The bank was moving to bigger premises, the two brothers had found themselves moving up in the world. He was bitterly glad for them. However, a small thought nagged at the back of his mind. He needed a place to hold several things safely, and the store was both centrally located and well within his means.

Before he knew what he was doing his feet led him inside. That was when it hit him; the smell of pine nuts. He breathed it in deeply. There was that smell of home and hope. He decided right then and there that he would buy the place. There was no real haggling done and the smooth transfer of the shop was swift.

Through the years he found many occasions to store items in it. Every few decades he would 'die' and his 'nephew' would come and take over. If anyone ever wondered why the consecutive nephews never married, looked alike, and always left it to **their **nephews, they never asked. No one really cared enough to wonder about the strange little shop. They didn't even care that the place still proclaimed itself to be a bank.

He didn't change it. His search took him around the world and he never really had a place to call home. Balthazar only tentatively thought of the shop as his base. There were living quarters upstairs which he seldom slept at. As much as he respected the local Merlinians he usually stayed at a hotel while in New York. No one should know where he would retire to, or more specifically where the Grimhold was kept.

In 1939 a girl named Lacy Steed had suggested that he change the name to something more suitable. After locking Horvath in the Grimhold he thought that perhaps it was time for a change. New York now seemed like it would be a good candidate to make into a home from Lacy's own predictions. After all, the Prime Merlinian was coming to him on a date sometime within the century. So the sign was changed and the store became the Arcana Cabana, a name that it would keep for decades.

He'd never bought insurance for it, seeing as he viewed himself as insurance. Of course, if he'd known that he was going to get stuck in an urn for ten years than he would've made better arrangements. He didn't though and when he came back out it was a Nokia outlet. There was a sense of outrage over that and he didn't expect anything to be the same when he went back in to retrieve a few items. It was an electronics store for cryin' out loud. However, to his shock and deep delight, the smell of pine nuts and sugar still lingered.

Perhaps that was why he fought so hard to get it back after Morgana's defeat. It was technically still his; the required ten years hadn't passed before it had been sold. It irked him that people would just pounce on property like that, but he should have expected it. After all, he should've gotten used to human nature.

Keeping that in mind he set about regaining his lost property. A little money greased the way, as well as a few scare tactics, and the deed was in his hands. After that he was back to waking up to his favorite scent. He was also waking up to the woman of his dreams beside him, but that was a different wonderful thing entirely.

Veronica seemed to clue into the place. She was entranced by all nuances of modern living and the store seemed to be especially wonderful to her. With nowhere else for her to go, and a mutual desire not to be apart from each other, they had started living together. While Balthazar's sensibilities were somewhat shocked by this, it was practical and again, he couldn't be apart from her for too long.

So when he married her and took her back from the reception, it was to a place that she was very familiar with. Seeing as how he'd had a long time to picture that day, she had too, he decided not to split hairs about that. He just picked her up bridal-style, careful not to step on her trailing skirt or veil, and carried her over the threshold. She'd laughed but twined her arms around his neck and allowed him to do it.

He was home now. Somewhere along the way the small shop had become home, perhaps from when he got his first whiff of the place. So much had happened in 122 years. The Arcana Cabana wasn't a candy shop anymore. It wasn't a bank. Balthazar wasn't even sure that it was an antique store really. Everything about it had changed. Everything but the smell of pine nuts and sugar.


	2. Prompt 2: Trousers

2. Trousers

"Do you wear that same thing **every **day?"

Sighing Balthazar shut the Incantus. So they were going to be doing this again were they? Just wonderful. If it wasn't the old man shoes it was something else. He really couldn't fathom why Dave cared so much. It wasn't as though he was asking Dave to dress just like him. Was he that embarrassing to be around in public that Dave needed to go on and on about it?

"Interesting assumption since I am very clearly changing my clothes," Balthazar, not turning around at the approach of his apprentice, "For instance, yesterday was brown and today is black."

"What a difference."

"Unlike most people I don't believe that clothing should be discarded like tissue paper," Balthazar retorted, "Being practical tends to be an advantage. That's a lesson I think most people could profit from these days."

"Well yeah, but most people change their clothes every now and then," Dave pointed out, "Or at least the colors."

"Can you honestly picture me wearing…say…yellow?" asked Balthazar, raising an eyebrow.

Dave made a face.

"Obviously not."

"Look, I'm not one to talk about fashion-"

"Once more obvious," said Balthazar, "You change your colors but, admit it; your style is as unvarying as mine."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," answered Balthazar, deciding that it was more than time for him to bring in the big guns, "Every day; blue jeans and sneakers, or if I'm lucky the shoes I specifically tell you to wear."

"Everyone wears that stuff and no one wears the-"

"Shirt is generally some form of plaid or checkered," Balthazar continued, "I might add that plaid and checkered are basically the same thing, don't deny it. They're usually over a solid colored t-shirt. So far so good, right?"

Dave didn't say anything and he knew he was on a roll here.

"Now we come to the hoodies," he finished, "Again with the layers and again with the every day. Are you really that cold that you find it necessary to layer up like that? I'm all for layers, it's probably the only practical thing you do, but if we're going to be the fashion police then I think you can get docked for that."

Throwing his hands up Dave said in frustration;

"Fine. Go that route."

"Thank you. I will."

"It still doesn't excuse you."

"Doesn't excuse you either."

"You know," Dave said, perhaps trying to rally some sort of dignity, "With a wife that goes around and looks up the latest fashions you'd think you'd dress at least a little more modern."

"With a girlfriend who looks like she stepped out of a catalogue every day you'd think you would dress like you had a life outside of _Warcraft_."

"Why does everyone think I play _Warcraft_?"

"Sorry Dave," smirked Balthazar, "But you fit the demographic."

"Like I'd fight fake orcs and trolls," Dave snorted, "I have to do the real thing on a daily basis."

"Still bitter about that troll over in Central Park?"

"You could've warned me it could make plant life come alive and attack me."

"I thought you knew."

"A warning would've been great."

"If you'd read your Incantus," Balthazar said, in full master/teacher mode, "Then you would've known."

"I have a life outside of the subway turnaround you know."

"Yes; physics and a few friends. Now that we're almost in constant contact with the New York Merlinians most of your friends are magic too. So there really is no excuse for that much negligence on your part."

"Look…just…whatever," said Dave, sitting down and waving his hands irritably, "My point is that over the past year I've been attacked by sorcerers, plants, trolls, the undead, imps, grindylows-"

"Always a favorite."

"-and my point is that all of that magical creature stuff has managed to completely ruin most of my wardrobe."

Balthazar cursed under his breath. He had been under the impression that they had moved past the whole clothing issue. Once again he wished that his apprentice didn't care about these things. He was starting to miss the Dave who worried about his every action. That one was more annoying but he'd had a tendency to listen a little more.

Dave with a little more confidence was a whole new beast. For instance; he knew that he no longer needed the ring or the shoes. So he had developed a tendency to leave them behind now. Despite Balthazar's almost constant demands that he bring them with him they generally stayed in the lab. Even Excalibur got left behind in the lab most of these days. Nothing was scaring him very much and as a result he was getting sloppy.

"I mean, considering all the stuff that's already happened," continued Dave, "Every pair of trousers you own, including the ones you're wearing, should be falling apart by now. I know my jeans are ruined."

He fought a strong urge to turn around and shoot another plasma bolt at the boy. Nothing big was happening at the moment. A dangerous sorcerer wasn't chasing them and doomsday wasn't around the corner. Still, the savior of humanity and the greatest sorcerer of the millennium was sitting down and arguing about fashion nuances. The sheer level of fixation was making Balthazar want to vomit. The combination of oddness and thoughtlessness portrayed was astronomic. Kids these days.

"And do you know what? Say what you like about my jackets, but those different," argued Dave, "They're jackets. I mean, pants are different, more specifically the fact that you seem to be wearing the same ones every day."

"Mmmhm," said Balthazar, losing what little interest he had had in the conversation to start with.

Either not noticing, or just sheer stubbornness not letting him acknowledge that he was losing, Dave pressed on;

"What are those even made of?"

"Mmm."

"I mean, they're not leather."

"Mmmm."

"But why don't they wrinkle or something?"

"Hm."

"I can't imagine you ironing."

Damn. He wasn't giving up. It was both an admirable attribute and one he wanted to strangle him for. Balthazar found his eyes drifting over to the tesla coils as the urge gripped him again. It would be so easy just to hit him with a bolt. Admittedly he had gotten much better at dodging them over the past few months, but Balthazar would always have the element of surprise on his side.

"So, and I repeat, what are they made of?"

He was starting to clear his mind to perform the spell when an idea popped into his head. He could just give him the answer. It was rather sadistic but Dave had been irritating him almost to madness. Time to put the fear of God into him. He grinned a little to himself, a grin that he quickly got rid of. He had to look serious for this to work. Balthazar turned and raised an eyebrow.

"They're cured dragon hide," he said.

The look on Dave's face was priceless. Oh how he wished he had a camera.

"Um…sorry, didn't quite catch that," stammered Dave, "What did you say they were made of again?"

"Cured dragon hide," repeated Balthazar, as if to a child.

Dave rolled his eyes.

"If you don't want to tell me-" Dave started.

"No, I'm completely serious," Balthazar said, his face deadpan.

"No, you're not."

"You're calling me a liar Dave, which is actually very rude," said Balthazar, "You asked, so either listen or read an extra chapter of the Incantus tonight and then recite it all to me tomorrow."

Dave suddenly fell silent.

"Good apprentice," said Balthazar, "When I was twenty-one I had to go out, kill a dragon without the aid of magic, skin it, and make clothing items from it before going on a quest. My coat and boots are made of it too. It's part of a sorcerer's coming of age ceremony. Veronica's are around here somewhere if she didn't lose them when the Keep fell…"

Dave laughed.

"Nice one Balthazar, really had me going there for a minute."

Balthazar stared at him.

"Going where?" he asked.

Again Dave laughed, this time uneasily.

"Well, you're joking, right?"

Balthazar continued staring at him.

"Right?" repeated Dave, slight hysteria starting to show in his features.

Shrugging Balthazar turned back in his seat and reopened his Incantus. With another shrug he said;

"You'll know in a year."


	3. Prompt 3: Shoes

3. Shoes

He understood, he really did. Drake was the last person who would think his life was of no consequence. He valued it far too highly, even placing it above his carefully cultivated image. So when Kate, or Bianca since she seemed to go by both these days, had told him they needed to change how he looked, he'd accepted it with a mere sigh.

It wouldn't have mattered if he had said no though. Truthfully he hadn't had a choice, only a warning. He hadn't had a choice in anything that had happened from the moment that Kate had opened his drawer in the morgue. Her exact words had been, and he recalled this quite clearly;

"Shut up. Do as I say. No questions."

Being snapped at was much better than being dead, certainly. Most Merlinians, and he was thinking of two in particular, probably thought he was better off being dead. This was a bit of an affront to him, seeing as he'd been rather sporting about the whole event. He hadn't actually tried to kill either of them. All he'd done was act as a distraction, and threaten, and…so yeah, maybe he had. That was beside the point though.

Either way he had thought that a change in looks might be for the better. However, he hadn't quite understood what that had meant for him. Most magical changes could be sensed by any sorcerer worth their salt. He'd been surprised that Balthazar hadn't figured it out when he first ran into him. Perhaps that had just been because he was eager to see his apprentice apologize, or it had been Horvath's strong magic. Who knew?

Then there was the fact that these disguises didn't really last that long, no matter how strong the caster. His own brief encounter with the spell had shown him that. For his protection, and for him to be any use for gathering information, he'd have to have something more permanent done.

The hair dye had hurt, no denying it. He had whimpered the entire way through the process. Drake probably could've accepted it if it was an exciting color like black or blue. Instead Kate had taken it into her head to dye it a reddish-brown. A normal, boring color like the one he'd been born with. It was positively criminal.

He'd had to bite back screams when she took away the piercings though. **All **of them. Then she'd healed up the holes and burned the earrings. That had smarted, that really had. It was all that 'I'm-from-the-1930's' crap. He could see in her eyes that Kate believed that men had no right to be going around and piercing their ears. The same look of disgust was there when she'd thrown away his make-up.

Every day he got up, looked at himself in the mirror, and wondered why he bothered to get up in the first place. He looked almost…what was the word, ah yes, **mousy**. Even his stylists had known that without his wild make-up the youngest recipient of the entertainer of the year award would look normal. Oh what he'd give for a bottle of foundation or eyeliner or…anything really. Even the fact that he'd managed to keep a few of his tattoos was small consolation.

Kate had sent him off gathering information as soon as he got his strength back. By the time that happened Kate had gotten his old ring back. She had convinced Balthazar to give her Horvath's cane, with the rings infused into it, for preservation in the Chrysler vaults. She'd argued it was needed for posterity and Balthazar hadn't wanted much to do with anything of Horvath's at all.

The ring felt good on his finger. He could've used another, but it would have been Merlinian made. It would have been a dead giveaway and Drake Stone had not dyed his hair to get killed. His knowledge of Morganian rites were useful, made him authentic. He'd need to be almost the real thing to fool anyone at all.

Yes, the fact that he was the magical James Bond was some comfort. Drake was actually surprised how much he enjoyed his work. Deception came surprisingly easy to him, and with a few spells to mask his accent he could be anyone. Those lasted. He'd earned Kate's respect piece by piece by being dependable and competent. Once he'd overheard her say to Jack Preston, the latest in a long line of Prestons to serve New York;

"If only we'd gotten him younger. I would've killed for a shot at training him. Just look how he's doing now."

Still, James Bond had never had to dress like he did. The college-student-journeyman-sorcerer-look was the best cover. The look apparently meant wearing hoodies and sweaters and baggy jeans. Clothes that were soft and big had never featured prominently in his life. He hadn't worn clothes like that since he was thirteen and learned the art of showmanship.

No one else around him was any more stylish though. He wondered if it was a Merlinian thing. Craig, the computer geek that Kate had made him room with, was indescribable. The man must cut his nails, and hair, with a hack saw. His apartment was a mess and around four times a day he tripped on a computer cable that had been flung there. Empty pizza boxes were stacked everywhere where colonies of new and exciting bacteria grew.

Craig didn't have anything to drink either. Actually, saying that was a mistake. He did have things to drink. They just had the words 'Mountain Dew' in them. Every flavor of 'Mountain Dew' ever conceived of was crammed into that junky refrigerator. Drake was starting to suspect that Craig wasn't human; he was a robot that used the sugar in 'Mountain Dew' as fuel. It certainly explained how his teeth hadn't rotted out.

In short; he hated his clothes and where he lived. Kate had managed to salvage his fortune, if not his fame, from his old wreck of a life. Drake toyed with the idea of just running away to some far off location, maybe Tahiti. He'd buy a house there so no one, Merlinian or Morganian, would ever find him again.

At the same time he understood how remaining alive was better. His life was certainly very valuable, to him at least. So he would put up with the soft floppy clothes and the disgusting living conditions. He would even put up with Craig's snoring from the next room over, which sounded like a foghorn. There was, of course, one thing he wouldn't put up with; the shoes.

They were in turns too tight and too big. Every step in them squeaked and clattered. He made enough noise to wake up an army in those things. Drake had actually refused to put them on when Kate had first brought them to him. She had narrowed his eyes, usually a sign that she wasn't willing to discuss the matter. Nonetheless they were so terrible that he had begged, nay pleaded;

"But those are old man shoes!"

Her response was terrifying.

"Drake," she's said calmly, "There's two ways this could go. The easy way is that you put these on this second. The hard way is me cramming them onto your feet and magically gluing them to you for the rest of your life. Now, which way do you want it?"

Feeling as though his very soul was breaking he put them on. Not a second of the day went by that he didn't miss his old leather shoes with the high heels and stylish lace-ups. Merlinians had no sense of style; no wonder team baddy had seemed like such a good choice. Dracula was stylish, Van Helsing was frumpy.

The shoes were also trying to kill him, and not just with the annoying sounds they made. While wearing them he had, on four separate occasions, gotten them caught on Craig's junk. Their circumference was bigger than what he was used to and were very easy to trip over. The resulting falls nearly broke his neck. Then Craig would come in and wail about how he'd messed everything up.

When this happened the fourth time Drake decided he'd had enough. The gloves had come off and he'd actually ended up in a fist-fight with his host. Kate had been none too pleased about that, not at all. He explained that he hadn't really been angry with Craig and had pointed to the fact that it was his shoes' fault. The look on Kate's face told him that that managed to make his side of the argument sound much more stupid.

She had withheld his account information from him for that little scuffle. He should've known she'd do something completely evil. Drake once again petitioned her to get rid of the shoes, but she just rolled her eyes and lit up a cigarette. He felt almost like a child again; everyone telling him what to wear and do.

However, she had decided he needed to get out of Craig's place. After three days in the Chrysler building, it gave him the creeps at night, she had found a place. Another Merlinian, someone called Ashley, had a serviceable place. Drake grimaced. Now he was being tossed around between people like a hot potato. It wasn't almost like when he was a child. It was **exactly **like when he was a child.

As he waited in the lobby for the dark one named Kate to arrive with his new jailer, he pondered if he was going from the frying pan to the fire. Craig had been sloppy and neurotic, but he hadn't much cared what Drake had done. He very much doubted that this Ashley would allow such laxity in her rules. What if she was sixty, cackled, and had cats? Drake shuddered at the very thought.

So when Kate walked in he looked up warily. Instead of the crazy old lady he'd braced himself for a young girl walked in. Drake kept his face impassive but his mind was working at a mile a minute. No one should be allowed to have curves like that. No one should be allowed to have their hair in a pony tail and manage to make their face look gentle. Above all, no one was allowed to look that good without make-up.

Drake got up and put on his charmer smile. He hoped that it still worked with his new look. It had never failed to endear him to the opposite gender in the past. Then again, he had never tried it on Kate. He had suspicions that Kate wasn't actually a woman; perhaps she was a robot like Craig. In any case he put on his game face.

Kate shot him a look. It was subtle, but the meaning cut through him like a dagger. Out of nowhere the words 'touch her and **DIE**' ended up in his head. He wasn't sure if it was telepathy or just the meaning in her eyes. The words faded almost immediately but at the same time they stayed with him.

"This is Ashley," Kate said smoothly, "She's seventeen, goes to Corona High School. Her parents will be out of town for a year or so and her brother's on an exchange student program in Germany so her place will work. Oh, and she's my apprentice."

Her eyes repeated their message, somehow managing to get it to come out a little harsher this time. It must be some sort of gift. Drake cursed mentally in the many languages he knew. Seventeen? Underage? He was the kind of man to push boundaries, but he'd never gone there. He had no desire to try it this time nor, and this was a big one, for Kate to kill him.

Ashley rolled her eyes at Kate's introduction. Not noticing Kate went away, her heels clicking on the floor. To the best of his knowledge she was going to talk to Craig in the other room about moving Drake's things, leaving the two of them alone. Looking at him a little curiously Ashley started to rock back and forth on her feet. Then she saw Drake's shoes and froze.

"Oh God," she said, "She made you wear the old man shoes. I can't believe…I just wanna say that I'm really really really **really **sorry."

Forget Kate. This girl was a gem.


	4. Prompt 34: Castle

_**A/N: **__Written for Kaytori's December 6 Montreal violence against women challenge. _

34. Castle

The dream castings had always started out innocently enough. Becky had only started having them sometime last year, her own dreams reaching out in times of distress. She tried to avoid going to sleep upset since that seemed to increase her chances of having a dream cast. They weren't bad, but it felt like she was prying into other people's private lives.

Sometimes though, she wouldn't have a choice. They'd just pop out of nowhere sometimes. Becky was treated to snapshots of the only other seers strong enough to make casts; her grandmother, Nimue, and once even Nimue's grandmother, Vivienne. They were always polite enough about it when they saw her, the various versions of her grandmother were always delighted, but it still felt like an intrusion.

She had been particularly worried about having one that night. Dealing with her mother, or being told that she was going to visit, was never a good thing for her. Oh yes, she knew the importance of sending a Christmas or Birthday card to her mother, but other than that she tried not to think about her. It had been her grandmother who had raised her, not her. She was just someone who tried to control other people's lives, someone whose visits had only caused Becky pain.

So when she fell asleep that night and found herself on the ramparts of a castle she cursed. Judging by the architecture, she had done a little background reading, she guessed it was Nimue's dream. Night had fallen over the area several hours ago. There was snow on the ground, so it might be winter or early spring.

Becky shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. As she progressed with her fledgling powers she found that the visions were becoming more and more real. On occasion she found herself solid within these dreams, although never noticeable by anyone but the caster. As a precaution she had started to invest in some woolen pajamas.

She thanked her lucky stars that she had thought to wear them that night. English winters were cold, or they had been several hundred years ago. Although she visited there frequently in her dreams Becky had never actually been. Padding over the stone with her bare feet she saw snow start to fall over the dimly lit turrets.

All of a sudden light poured around her. Turning around she saw a man in the doorway dragging a girl by the arm. The man nearly six feet tall and had to stoop to go through the doorway. It was hard to tell in the light but his features were rough, covered by a thick golden beard and hair. It was difficult to see the brilliant gold circlet there, only visible by the rubies on it. On his tunic the sign of a red dragon blazed.

The girl was fifteen or so. She was slim and wearing a cream-colored dress. Her red hair fell around her loosely and her lip was split as if she'd been hit. At first Becky had failed to recognize this woman. Then the man pulled her forward and Becky saw the blindfold around her eyes. Nimue.

The man shoved her to the ramparts and grabbed her by her hair. Two guards were dragging forward another man. He started at the sight of Nimue's treatment but the two guards held him back.

"Know where we are?" he hissed.

"The ramparts," Nimue said, her voice steady.

He threw her head onto the stone and Nimue gave a small cry. Once more the toher man started forward and again he was held back.

"The ramparts **your grace**," he hissed, "I'm still King, albeit one without an heir and one whose sorcerers tend to fail him. Now, I'm asking you again, how do I win Lord Westguard's Castle?"

"I know nothing of strategy **your grace**," she said bitterly, "You should ask your battle commanders for something like that."

Again there was the slam. This time the man in the back was hit for his struggles. Nimue looked back at him in panic and whipped some blood from her lip. Becky herself started forward before stopping herself. She couldn't change these visions, even the times when she was solid. They had all already happened so long ago. Dave had once told her that sorcerers had a spell that allowed them to see parts of the past but, like with her, these things had already happened and couldn't be replaced.

"They all sing me the same, boring, unacceptable song. It's an impregnable fortress, the Lord of Westguard is our friend, rules of fair conduct, yadda yadda yadda yadda," the King said, bored, "I want to know how to win. I know you can see it. So let's save both of ourselves some trouble here. Tell me what you've seen; even if you've seen me losing tell me what you saw so I can do a new strategy."

Nimue shook her head. Becky admired her courage, not only at this moment, but from other snapshots of her life that she'd seen.

"It doesn't work like that," she said, "I've tried to explain it your grace but I can't use it that way."

This time she was jerked around to face him, her hair twisting in his fingers. Despite her strong voice Becky could see that she was breathing hard. The King noticed it to and jerked her hair a little harder. She gave a small whimper as the King dragged her towards the battlements. Icy winds whipped his cloak around him

"The pull of the wind is extraordinarily strong this evening. How about I just throw you down there, hm?" he snapped, "An interesting end to the Twefth night celebrations, I'll give you that. It will certainly be colorful though."

"No!" the man in the back cried.

He was struck again. Nimue looked back at him before turning her attention to the King. Her fist clenched.

"We both know you wouldn't your grace," said Nimue, her breath slow and deliberate, "I'm too valuable to kill."

He drew a dagger from his belt and placed it on her cheek.

"You're right about that. You are too valuable to throw off the castle," he agreed, "But your father isn't."

His eyes flickered over to the other man who had turned white.

"Don't," Nimue said immediately.

This time the strike went home.

"I didn't hear your grace," He said, "And no one tells me what to do. A few fingers from him perhaps? His eyes? Or maybe I'll just have him drawn and quartered. Maybe his beloved daughter should decide?"

Nimue's mouth hardened into a thin line.

"You call yourself a King, but you're just a coward," she said, her voice getting gradually louder, "That's your real title. All hail Uther, the killer of old men and women and children, the king of the craven!"

Uther brought back the dagger and shoved it towards the top of her shoulder. Nimue gave a small scream and slumped downwards. A bright red spot blossomed as he threw her down to the ground. She clutched the wound to staunch the bleeding and he sheathed his dagger. Her father screamed and the soldiers howled with laughter. With a sneer Uther said;

"Call me craven again and you'll pay with your father's life," he said, "Just remember that. And work harder on telling me the secret of Westguard."

He turned on his heel and stormed out. The soldiers followed him, letting her father go. He hurried over to Nimue and hugged her. The moment the door closed she dissolved into frightened tears. The brave front was gone and she was shown for how young and hurt she really was.

"It's not a nice view, I'll grant you that."

Becky turned to see an older Nimue standing beside her, perhaps around twenty-four, dressed in long white shift. Embarrassed Becky stuttered;

"I didn't mean-"

"Of course you didn't. It's not like we can control this sort of thing yet. It was what I was dreaming about," Nimue said with a shrug, "And yes, sometimes I dream about the distant past as well as my present."

She moved her now pure white hair aside so that her shoulders were bare. Becky could see a scar near the top of her shoulder. Flickering her eyes back to Nimue's younger self she could see that that same place had blood coming from it. Nimue fingered it briefly before turning back to Becky.

"I'm sorry you had to see this."

Swallowing hard the Becky asked;

"Was this…was this…?"

"The only time? If only it had been," she said, "I was a convenient target, the only magic user at his court and the strongest seer in England. I was brought to the castle when I was five, never really knew any other life after I was used for my visions."

She breathed in.

"It wasn't so bad at first; just a few insults and him breaking a few things. Then Uther's madness crept on him slowly. My father couldn't do much, this man was the King. Thank God he thought the blind were cursed King. The abuse I could take but if he'd ever…well like I said, he didn't."

Nimue looked over at her younger self. Her father was slowly, with clumsy and large hands, bandaging up her still-bleeding shoulder.

"I survived though," she said wonderingly, "I don't know how. Then Merlin and I ran away together with the prince in tow. He would've killed him, and I couldn't let it happen to anyone else…not after…"

She turned away from the scene and Becky followed her. When Nimue reached the edge of the ramparts she leaned up against them.

"He killed his wife you know, Queen Ygraine. After he stole her from another man. Nearly killed her two daughters, would have if they hadn't been given away as wards to a nobleman in Lothain. I liked her you know, liked her very much. A good woman. She suffered much more than I did before he finally cut her throat. He said it was an assassin, but everyone knew."

Becky didn't say anything.

"It was all legal you know, just as long as a stick wasn't used any bigger than his wrist," she said, "Not that many people cared. A woman couldn't even legally leave her husband, even if there were threats of death. Ygraine never really had a chance, and as the King's ward my situation was little better."

She sighed.

"Something was just wrong with him. Some men are like that, I don't think it's any different where you come from."

Her head turned to face Becky and she smiled sadly. For a minute Becky thought she saw a tear slip from under the blindfold that covered Nimue's eyes.

"And I suppose not everyone makes it where you come from either."

And there was nothing Becky could say to that.


	5. Prompt 4: Life

4. Life

"What's eating you?" asked Balthazar.

Dave leapt up from his chair. He'd been studying the Incantus, his lips moving silently as he tried to figure out a complex spell.

"What are you talking about?" he'd asked.

"Dave, I'm not stupid," he said, "Even Tank knows you're upset."

Looking down Dave noticed for the first time that Tank was curled up by his feet. The small bulldog gave a whimper and put his head on Dave's shoe. Balthazar saw it as a loyal and faithful gesture, even if the effect was ruined a little by the amount of slobber that was coming from the dog's mouth.

Apparently Dave did too. He sighed.

"Becky's mom's coming to visit her again," Dave said nervously, "She's got fair warning but there's nothing she can do about it."

Balthazar sighed. From what he could recall Becky, for all of her sweetness, had a mother who sounded like Morgana's long-lost-twin-sister. The last time she had come Balthazar had been spared meeting her. Instead Dave had unknowingly walked into a death trap and been told frankly by her that he wasn't good enough for her daughter.

Later Becky had run after him, trying to explain that her mother didn't know what she was talking about. Balthazar had been relieved that everything had turned out so well. Still, he should've known that there would be more from this woman. Dave wasn't about to let Becky go and she wasn't about to let him go. So, in some way or another, the mother would have to be dealt with.

"I mean, I'm not going to have to see her this time," said Dave, "I'm past caring about her opinion, but I know it hurts Becky every time they see each other. Her mother remarried for like the eight hundredth time a few months ago, so that's just going to make things worse for her."

He looked miserably around the room.

"I know I can't fix it all. I just…I just wish I wasn't so tongue tied when these things happened," he said in frustration, "She…she gave her life for me once and now I can't even find something to say about this? I mean, why can't I do this one thing for her, be there when she needs me to be?"

Balthazar stared at his apprentice. A year ago, when he first began his training, he wouldn't have said any of these things to him. Dave would've clammed up about it. Then again, Balthazar might not have even bothered to ask. He had though, and that felt a little more troubling than the subject matter of Dave's woes.

When had he become so involved in this boy's life? Many could argue it had been when he was ten. That had certainly left an impact. Another good starting point was when he began training him. Still, those had been the acts of an apprentice trying to do as his master had bid him centuries ago. It was Merlin's Apprentice, and not Balthazar Blake, who had been urging him along.

He thought back, racking his brains. When had the switch occurred? He needed to know before he tried to give him some advice, he really did. Balthazar thought long and hard until he came up with the answer. It had been, if memory served correctly, just before Horvath had gotten his hands on the Grimhold.

.

.

.

"I've been waiting for this girl for ten years," Dave said, frustrated, "Do you have any idea what that's like?"

Balthazar's blood turned to ice in its veins. His heart stopped. Then the ice melted and gave way to fire, his heart beating in time with his anger and complete fury. His mind moved at hundreds of miles per second. There were many things that Balthazar could've said. He could've scoffed at the boy for his utter naivety.

_Ten years? You're upset because you've waited ten years? Oh yes Dave, I do know what that's like. Contrary to your belief I have waited ten years for a girl. Then, when I was done with that, I enjoyed it __**so**__ much I did it twelve more times. Ten years is nothing, absolutely nothing. I would have given all my magic, everything, absolutely everything, to have held her after ten years. Your wait is nothing._

_In the great scheme of the cosmos even thirteen hundred years is nothing, though it may feel like an eternity. It is an eternity, an eternity much longer than anyone should ever have to go through. Sometimes it felt like my mind would just burst with everything that was in it. Sometimes I felt like I was going absolutely mad. Oh, but why should I complain? You're the __**real **__victim here. You've been waiting for __**ten **__years!_

He could've laughed at him.

_Just because you've waited you expect that everything's going to turn out alright. They tell you that slow and steady wins the race but that's a lie, the worst lie that they could possibly tell you. Waiting doesn't help anything. Hesitation, even seconds of it, will kill you. I had four years with her, the memories of four years to help sustain me for centuries. If I had acted sooner I might have a few more to keep me together at night._

_If you really loved this girl you should've chased her down before now. You could've begged your mother not to transfer your schools, don't think I don't know about that. I know a lot more than you think while you stand there in your ignorance. You didn't go after her though. Was it because you were too ashamed because everyone thought you were crazy?_

_Ashamed? You were ashamed, weren't you? Now I've hit the nail on the head. There are so many more things to be ashamed about, things you can't even begin to think about. You're so young, what have you done in your life to be truly ashamed of? Told the truth to those who didn't believe you and got ostracized for it? Big deal, go get yourself psycho-analyzed some more. It's all laughable Dave, real laughable._

He could've even dismissed these pleas with a snort, perhaps punctuated with a plasma bolt.

_You think that your life is your own? I've chased you for over a millennium on the vague hope that I could save the world and my sanity. I've waited and waited and searched and searched on nothing more than rumors and prayers. My 'old man shoes' as you call them are filled with the dirt of the thousands of miles I've walked to try and find you._

_Why can't you understand this? Why can't you even begin to grasp the importance of all of this? Now is when I need you to have it together the most. There's a genuine threat and you know the dangers. Yet, you're still ditching practice to hang out with a girl who will end up dead if you fail anyway. Why?_

_How stupid are you? How utterly stupid can you be to think that that's more important? Forget about all those honor classes; you're an idiot. You have no priorities. Or if you do than you're certainly not placing them right. A pretty face shouldn't be distracting you from what you need to do. _

Balthazar considered the last one. He even had the electricity starting to form in his hands until he saw the utter desperation on Dave's face. The electricity suddenly died, just like the words he wanted to say. The boy was in love, horribly so, and the chance of spending an hour with her meant more than working on plans to save the world. Balthazar himself had been there. A different response formed in his head.

_Ten years. You've been waiting for this girl for ten years. You were ten then. Can you fall in love at ten? I don't know. Still, that was ten years ago. That's…not really that long. Not for me. I can see things in the big picture. I have to. Ten years has been a long time for you though. That's been half your life, hasn't it? You're so young but already you carry the burden of wanting something you think you can never have. _

_Yes, I can say that honestly. I can see it in your eyes, even in your stance. Dave, you don't think you're going to get her. You think one little mistake will send her running from you. Maybe it will. I don't know Becky, I don't even know you that well. Still, I can see that your only choice is to try and to fight for her. _

_Perhaps you will get the courage to fight. There's still a chance that you'll go through all of that and you still won't win her. She may be in love with someone else, and I bet that fills your head at night, not magic. That's your worst nightmare, that or she just blows you off. It's all you can do to take the risk of trying because you're so afraid, so afraid that you'll fail at this one, important thing._

Those words died on his lips as well. He was not the man to advise this boy. Maybe he had been once, but not anymore. So instead he just nodded and promised the boy some time. He knew that Dave was surprised, but Balthazar never offered an explanation. There wasn't one that he could give.

.

.

.

He had been right then, right to just give him that time and walk off. He hadn't been the one who could advise him and tell him where to go. Although he hadn't looked it that Balthazar had been a broken man. He'd been fighting for so long with so little hope and so few helpers. Even when salvation was staring him in the face he had refrained from believing in it too much. If things when wrong it would just hurt.

Now though, things were different. He had a wife who waited for him back home and a future with an end. Balthazar had a life now, one that he could proudly call his own. After all that time of watching jealously from the sidelines he had been readmitted into the world. He wasn't Merlin's Apprentice anymore. He was Balthazar Blake.

While he would never admit it, Dave had played a major role in helping him back. He would be lying dead so many times over if not for him. He had also given him someone to look out for. Now he wasn't just someone who could stand there and dole out more time. Now he could get back into things. He could help him a little now.

"Well," Balthazar sighed, "I'm not an expert in these things."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"But it seems to me…"


	6. Prompt 19: Coffee House

19. Coffee House

Veronica looked down at the Styrofoam and cardboard cup suspiciously.

"It's coffee," Becky assured her.

"Becky," Veronica answered slowly, "Coffee does not **sparkle**."

Becky chuckled but Veronica just glared down resentfully at her coffee. She preferred tea normally; while it was as alien to her as coffee it tasted a little more natural to her. The only exception she made was when Becky and she had their Wednesday coffee mornings. It was a tradition rooted in their first meeting and a way to unwind.

Every time she would take her coffee black with just a touch of cream and sugar. She had never been one for too much decoration; her wedding dress was a testament to that. So she had foregone the shots so popular with the rest of the coffee shop's patrons. There was no whipped cream or cocoa sprinkles either.

This new brew was one of Becky's favorites and to be polite she had agreed to try it. The sparkly surface was strange to her, but at least there was no whipped cream or sprinkles. She still looked at it suspiciously. Merlin had once made a charm with mud to wake a person from a coma, and it had looked quite like this drink.

"Come on," said Becky, rolling her eyes, "Scared or something?"

Veronica narrowed her eyes. She wasn't one to back down from a challenge.

"Fine."

Closing her eyes she raised it to her lips. Conscious of Becky's watching eyes she took a slow and deliberate sip. It didn't taste that bad but something in her stomach flipped when it touched her tongue. She gagged a little on it, trying to force it down. Unfortunately she didn't quite manage to.

She grabbed her napkin and spit it out. It was fortunate that she managed to; otherwise it would have gone all over the table. Becky's eyes widened.

"I…really wasn't expecting that," she confessed, "Are you allergic or something?"

"Not that I'm aware," said Veronica, still having to breathe deeply to combat the drink's effects, "But there are so many more chemicals out here these days…who knows? Balthazar suggested I get tested…maybe I should take him up on that."

"Well, if you were allergic to peanuts, the secret ingredient here, then you might've already known," Becky said, eyeing the cup of coffee with doubt.

"We didn't have peanuts back then," said Veronica, "Apparently they were imported a few centuries after I was first locked in the Grimhold."

"Oh…chocolate's in it. Chocolate too?"

"Chocolate too," Veronica agreed, "Way after my time. Although I heard **you **were the one who was allergic to that."

"I am, or to one of the ingredients," said Becky, taking a sip of her own coffee, "To be specific it's the cocoa butter."

"Easy enough to avoid."

"Not as easy as you'd think," Becky replied, "I can't tell you how many boyfriends failed to learn that. I decided that the first one that gave me hard candy instead of chocolate would turn out to be a keeper."

"…and?"

"Fourth grade, lollipop taped to a Valentine's day card," said Becky, shrugging, "I'll give you three guesses who it was from. So I was right, in a sense."

"In a sense."

Becky shrugged again. Veronica's head started to swim a little and she touched it with her hand.

"Are you feeling alright?" Becky asked.

"For the most part. Perhaps I'm a little off," admitted Veronica, "I don't know. Some sort of small illness."

She smiled to herself.

"You know," she said, "You've got all these new drugs and chemicals these days no one's worried about some small illness. I never was really, but when I was growing up a cough could turn out to be the plague and kill you overnight."

Veronica watched as Becky blinked. She started to wonder if she should have said that. The plague wasn't exactly good morning talk.

"Huh," she said.

"Just saying," Veronica said.

"The Plague. Really? You're from 740 A.D or so right?"

"Balthazar told me that was correct."

"It's just that I thought the plague wasn't until later," said Becky, "Around the 1300's or something."

Now it was her turn to blink.

"Becky, you can't remember when chocolate and peanuts were first introduced to Britain," she said slowly, "But you can internally compare time periods, do the math, and figure out when the plague first ravaged Europe?"

The younger woman had the grace to look a little embarrassed.

"I had a unit on it a few weeks ago," she said, "I have to take European history to graduate."

"I see," said Veronica, "But the plague…it has different forms, understand? And not everything people call the plague was, as Balthazar explained to me, 'the big one'. There were other epidemics, other pandemics."

"Sounds like a dangerous time."

"You don't know the half of it, and not just the illness component," said Veronica, "But I was never very concerned about getting sick. I was trained as a midwife, like my mother before me, and her mother before her, and so on. Midwives didn't just deliver babies; they also helped the sick and dressed the dead."

Leaning her elbows on the table Becky cocked her head to the side. Veronica took this a as an invitation to continue.

"Physicians were very suspicious figures back then, and very expensive ones to boot. Midwives were more revered, or at least in my village," she said, "Now, I know what you're thinking. And some people did say it had to do with the pagan roots but let's think about this for a minute. Which would you prefer when you're sick; some stranger in imposing garb or someone you might've grown up with?"

"Good point," said Becky.

"That's what I always thought; it's the level of familiarity that can be built up. But my work did take me around quite a bit. Getting sick just wasn't an option for me, not something that I thought about," Veronica said, "Never was, never will be."

She grinned.

"But…I could tell you someone who was very worried about little illnesses."

Becky's jaw dropped.

"No," she said, "Nah-ah…really?"

"Balthazar does have a habit of completely losing it when someone was ill, and it's a sight to see him panicking," she said, "Understandable since it was a valid threat. But there were, and are, times when he tends to overdo it past the point of patience. He's what you would call these days, just a touch germaphobic."

There was a glint in Becky's eyes. Veronica knew that she would most likely run to tell Dave after this, who would in turn use it in some way to get out of practice. Still, the playing ground hadn't exactly been even since Balthazar had frightened Dave with that dragon story. Veronica decided it wasn't her place to tell the truth in the matter, and she did find it funny. Dave did deserve something in his court though. Her husband made a formidable foe.

A few hours later she went down to the lab, clutching her coat to herself closely against the cold. Wednesdays were sword training days, an essential skill for a sorcerer. It was left to her since Balthazar was completely hopeless with a sword. He'd always been a much better archer than her, but she could best him in any duel.

Dave was running a little late that day, something that happened with college classes and everything. It wasn't encouraged though. Balthazar was very obviously aware of his apprentices' tardiness. He kept looking at his watch and muttering to himself. This wasn't going to be pretty. Veronica didn't say anything to him when he was in that mood. She just picked up a whetstone and started to do an equipment check.

She was still doing that when Dave burst through the door. He was twenty minutes late and knew it.

"Look, I know I'm late but-"

"I'm in no mood. So this excuse that you're about to give? It had better be good," Balthazar said irritably.

"Um…I was studying?" he said lamely.

Balthazar's fist clenched.

"You were with Becky, weren't you you horrible liar?" he asked.

"….maybe."

"You know," Balthazar said, "I'm the last one to talk to you about picking duty over love, but get a grip Dave! There is spending time with someone you love, and then there is playing hooky. And **that **was playing hooky and therefore inexcusable. Know what you're going to be doing for punishm-?"

Dave suddenly started wrinkling his nose uncomfortably. Absently he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tissue. He blew his nose into it loudly before sniffling once. With a surprising level of nonchalance he dropped the tissue on the floor. Balthazar's eyes followed the tissue's descent, glued to its travels. When it hit the ground he looked up again at Dave who sniffled again.

"Sorry," he said, "I've had a cold recently. What were you saying?"

Balthazar's eyebrow twitched.

"Nothing," he said, "Nothing at all. But…just remember to throw your tissues away in a trash can. It's…it's…**unsanitary**."

He turned his back and strode away. Dave grinned before trotting into the Merlin's Circle. Veronica reflected briefly on the old adage that bad news travelled fast. Perhaps bad news travelled even faster when it came from the lips of a girlfriend. Internally she tallied things up. So far the score was one one, all.


	7. Prompt 7: Squirrel

7. Squirrel

"Dave, it's okay, it really is."

"No, no it isn't."

"Well, I never said it was going to be perfect rainbows and unicorns. You can't say that I did," Becky said, "And yeah, I can see how that looked back there. But you can put me down. You really can."

Dave looked down at Becky suspiciously. He was currently carrying her bridal-style across the park to a bench. She could see that it was taking its toll on him. Becky knew she was petite but Dave wasn't exactly the Hulk. If he hadn't been fighting with swords for the past few months he wouldn't be able to support her at all. As it was she suspected that magic was involved.

"You passed out," he said.

"Not for very long," she answered back, a touch defensive.

Rolling his eyes Dave set her down on the bench. Becky sighed and wondered how things had turned out like this. The day had started out so promising. It just went to show that you shouldn't count your chickens before they were hatched. One minute she had been waiting in line to get some ice cream in the park, chatting about her European history class. The next minute everything went black.

When she woke up Dave had raised her head so that it was resting on her lap. She'd fallen to the ground and her back was sore. About five other people from the line were looking down at her, obviously worried. She hadn't been out for very long, no more than three minutes or so. Dave had insisted that she try and get as much rest as possible though. Hence the reason why she was being carried currently."

"You never said being a seer would make you pass out," he said, "Anything else I should know?"

She looked uncomfortably at her hands.

"So there is," he said.

"It's not much," she said hurriedly, "Not much at all considering every other seer on the face of the planet has to go blind-"

"But there's something else."

"Just, little things," Becky said, wishing that she wasn't having this conversation, "Just little things."

"Like passing out."

"Well, yeah. It's the shock of the magic to the body, see? I wasn't in contact with anyone magical except my grandmother and only then on lower levels. Not until I ran into you. So it's a bit of a radical change for my body to adjust to."

"…meaning?"

"It's just making things harder. My grandmother used to have seizures with some of her visions you know."

"**Seizures**?"

"Only sometimes," Becky hastened to add, "And I don't think the same thing will happen to me. I get the powers without all of the drawbacks."

"Except for the passing out apparently."

"Aren't we a little fixated today? This is the first time it's happened I'll have you know."

"You need it to happen more than once?" asked Dave incredulously.

"No, I'm just saying."

"But it doesn't surprise you."

"It doesn't surprise me."

"And this is because…?" he trailed off suggestively.

"Well, my grandmother did warn me that I might start showing a few signs of anemia," added Becky tentatively, "I'm not really going to have the sickness, just fatigue easily, that sort of thing. Possibly have low blood sugar."

"Is that what you're having now?" Dave asked, sounding a little panicked, "I mean, is that what caused you to pass out back there?"

"I-"

"Because if it is then I know how to deal with it. They thought I had low blood sugar at one point and I know that-"

"I thought they said you had a glucose imbalance."

"That was kind of their last resort. The doctors tried to make me fit everything and anything. You should've seen some of the stuff I was diagnosed with. It was ridiculous," admitted Dave, "They couldn't find anything wrong for me in the end. So they all got together and came up with some fancy sounding words to try to explain it all away. By that time my Mom was so sick of going to all these different doctors that she just accepted it at face value. Not to mention that she didn't want to think I was crazy. It was just easier for her to think it was something wrong with my glucose levels."

"Sounding a little cynical there Dave," smiled Becky, "Guess Balthazar's rubbing off on you."

"Yeah, and you're trying to change the subject," he said, "So do you need something to eat right now or don't you?"

"I'm fine."

Sighing Dave leaned back and closed his eyes.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about this," he said, "It just came out of nowhere. I didn't know what had happened to you, didn't know whether to take you to the hospital or not. If you hadn't woken up so quickly than I might've called 911 or tried to plasma bolt you back to life."

"I'm glad you didn't," she said reassuringly.

"Yeah, but I might have," answered Dave, "It's just, why didn't you tell me? Didn't you think this was something that I might've wanted to know about?"

This was just a little much.

"I know you get headaches and nosebleeds, and you didn't tell me anything about them. That's the same magic shock I was talking about, don't say you didn't recognize all of that stuff that I said. I'm sure Balthazar explained it to you," said Becky, irritated, "I doubt you were planning on telling me about them somewhere in the immediate future either. Didn't you think that was something I might've wanted to know?"

He stared at her.

"Yeah, I know," she said, "And don't give me that look. You do it too so don't get all self-righteous on me here."

He shifted a little and looked away.

"That's different."

"Not really."

"I didn't think it was that important."

"I didn't think I was going to pass out," she said, knowing that her voice came out a little stiff, "But, despite the passing out, I'm not some wilting flower Dave. I can take care of myself; if I get too tired I eat a candy bar. That kind of thing."

Dave clasped his fingers in his lap. He looked up briefly at the park before sighing.

"If it helps I did know that you were going to be surprised today," she said, trying to lighten the mood, "Twice in fact."

"Saw that in a vision?" he asked drily.

"Yeah."

"I guess my girlfriend suddenly collapsing was one," said Dave.

She decided not to answer that. He sighed again before saying;

"I know you can take care of yourself Becky, I do. But…just for a moment…you didn't know how you looked that night Mordred came to your apartment. It freaked me out earlier, okay?"

Becky felt herself softening. She put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," she said, "I wasn't really dead."

"You looked it. Everyone was saying you were. You didn't have a pulse. You were, as they say, 'medically dead'," he replied, his voice a touch snappish.

For a minute she had to fight the urge to snap back at him. Like any person in life he could be difficult at times. She had to remind herself of his pleas to stop haunting him when he saw her again. The word 'traumatic' might have been an apt adjective to that night. So, with a great deal of tenderness she cupped his face with her hand and started to turn it towards her.

His gaze held hers. In the months since they had gotten together he had stopped blushing furiously and spluttering every time she came near him. It was a relief since she hadn't had to worry about if he'd be able to talk to her ten minutes after a kiss coherently. Becky smiled at the thought.

"Hey, I'm still here," she said.

Dave reached out with his hand and brushed some hair away from her face. He liked touching her hair. He'd never told her that, possibly because few men would ever admit to liking to bury their hands in their girlfriend's hair. Still, she could tell. Whenever he reached for her it was always around her face or shoulders. The sheer amount of times he had rested his head in the crook of her neck was uncountable.

He leaned in hesitantly. Becky could count on one hand the number of kisses that he himself had personally initiated. Kisses on the cheek were common enough but it was a rare occasion that he would kiss her on the lips. He would always respond enthusiastically enough when she did it, but Becky did like it whenever he'd do it himself. She closed her eyes and waited for contact.

"Gah!"

She opened her eyes just in time to see a brown squirrel dart between where her face would've been if she'd leaned in a little further. Unlike Dave she'd had the self-control not to scream at the sight of the furry animal. As she watched it it touched down on the ground and scurried into the opposite bushes. Well that made two surprises.

Turning to see Dave she saw that he had shimmied as far away from where it had been as possible. Apparently small furry animals scared him. Becky burst out laughing before she leaned over and kissed him. The seriousness of the mood that had prompted the kiss might've been broken, but the want for the kiss still remained.


	8. Prompt 65: Dryad

65. Dryad

Bianca eyed Tabitha and Julian suspiciously. The twins looked at her strangely, but she had every right to be suspicious. They were both quiet and well behaved today. In her experience with the two brats, or **darlings** as their parents insisted on calling them, that meant that they were up to no good.

Disciplining her shouldn't have been her responsibility. They were lucky enough to have their parents for their masters, although the Donaldsons specialized in deciphering old magical texts. Oh yes, and they dabbled in alchemy. In short they were not, how to put it, combat sorcerers. Not at all.

This would've been fine if they were living in, say, Tallahassee, but they weren't. They were living in one of the most dangerous magical cities in the world. Bianca, now the Prime, had very grudgingly accepted their inability to learn offensive spells. Some sorcerers were just like that. When the time came and the twins had been found to have the same deficit though, she had nearly ripped her hair out.

At least they weren't academical like their parents. Healers were useful. Bianca's own cousin and foster brother, Robin, had been a healer. So she had a soft spot for the profession. For the sake of their training they had been shipped over to her and Jack to further their education. Healers needed to know to defend themselves, at least in a basic sense.

As for the furthering of their healing abilities; she couldn't help them there. Her own abilities consisted of vanishing small scars and burns. Recreating organs or reattaching limbs were so far out of her orbital that it made her head spin. That was what they needed to learn how to do though. **That **would make them useful due to the insane amount of limbs that the average New York Merlinian lost.

So in more ways than one Veronica was a godsend. She'd been trained as a midwife way back when and her skills had only enhanced when she began learning magic. Bianca had politely approached her after 'The Mordred Debacle' as it was becoming known, was over. Veronica had seen the twins at her wedding and had been willing to help them hone their skills a little.

Bianca had watched in awe the first day she dealt with them. Both of the twins were shy and quiet around her, probably due to the fact that they knew who she was. They were diligent as well, something that Jack had expressed disbelief about. He was a father, although Bianca secretly wondered what kind of man would name his daughter Belinda. Jack was hopeless with them though and Bianca only managed to keep them in line with scare tactics.

Veronica had a way with children though. She could take them through whole lessons sometimes without the mere whisper of an incident. Nothing would happen on her watch and the twins were making rapid progress because of it. During their time with her they were model students, downright studious.

So maybe she shouldn't have been surprised that they should be well behaved when they were each standing by Veronica. That day was supposed to be a field exercise, learning how to talk to magical creatures to get useful herbs. The only reason that Bianca was there was because she knew where the location of the 'enchanted wood' was.

The enchanted wood was what she'd sarcastically named it when she had started training. It was just a small section of Central Park where ten dryads lived and a handful of faeries. They'd go down there every now and then with tribute to make sure that they didn't wreck ecological vengeance on the city. They were on cordial terms with them and she could vaguely remember Robin going down there every now and then to get herbs.

"Is this it?" asked Veronica.

"Yup," Bianca said, gesturing to the trees, "I probably don't have to tell you to take your shoes off."

Shaking her head Veronica bent down to untie her laces. The twins have their shoes off quicker than blinking, the socks off too. Bianca took a little while more. Stilettos were fashionable and allowed her to conduct magic, but my how they were difficult to get in and out of. She cast a quick spell over their shoes to make sure that no one stole them. There were some real weirdos who hung around Central Park at night.

"Ready?" asked Bianca.

"Ready," Veronica agreed.

"Ready," the twins chorused.

Rolling her eyes Bianca started off into the forest. She knew that the twins were really nothing alike. They only shared their looks. Somewhere along the road they had gotten it into their heads that they were supposed to be alike though. So the two of them had started talking in unison and dressing in the same colors sometimes. Most of her fellow sorcerers found it cute. She found it irritating.

"Now remember," said Veronica, "Speak only when spoken to and keep the carnage down. I don't want to see any flowers picked or grass pulled at, even when you're bored. And for goodness sake don't lean up against a tree!"

"Why shouldn't they pick flowers?" Bianca asked.

Veronica looked up and blinked.

"It offends them."

"Uh…hm. No offense Veronica, but you're wrong about that."

"Balthazar was once flung across the forest for doing that in their presence, and that was by accident," said Veronica, "He just happened to accidentally kick the head off of a flower that time and they screamed murder."

"I'm not saying that didn't happen, and I'm actually getting some pretty amusing mental images from that. All I'm saying is that maybe that offends the old dryads back in merry ol' England," said Bianca, "Not these guys though."

She turns and takes her first few steps inside of the small area. The grass felt odd beneath her feet. Bianca was briefly reminded of the 70's. She shuddered. She was so glad that she hadn't bought into that hippie crap. As a result she could look back on that decade with a crystal clear conscience.

"Why's that?" asked Veronica curiously as they ventured in.

"We're in New York," Bianca shrugged, "Asking humans to stop polluting is like asking a river to run backwards normally. Here it's even worse. You see all that smog?"

"Balthazar explained to me what it was," Veronica said, making a face.

"Yeah," Bianca said, "Pretty undesirable neh? They know they have to be a little more tolerant these days. It's adapt or die and they've pretty much figured out that humans pick flowers and pull up turf. They console themselves with the knowledge that humans also plant trees and make pretty little gardens."

"Small consolation."

"They take what they can get," Bianca said, "But they still think leaning on trees is the equivalent of groping. So Tabitha, Julian, don't even touch one."

The twins, who had just come of the age where they figured out what groping meant, nodded and giggled. With another eye roll Bianca led them on until they came into a small clearing. She placed her hands on her hips and waited for the rest of them to catch up. As soon as they were behind her she called out;

"Oh !"

One of the trees started to move slightly. Julian and Tabitha yelped and took a step backwards. Slowly a woman's form came from the wood, stretching and yawning. Her hair seemed like it was made of vines and her gown stitched from leaves. Terra's eyes were large and green, just like her skin. She blinked sleepily.

"Do you have to come so early Bia dear?" she asked, yawning again.

"Just 'cause you guys are nocturnal doesn't mean I am," said Bianca.

"You're early too," she said, scratching her head and fluffing out her hair, "We weren't expecting you for at least another month."

"Got two brats training to be healers," she jerked her head towards the twins.

"Oh yes, the Donaldson twins," Terra said, "But who's the other woman?"

"That's Veronica Blake, formerly Hunt."

Terra's big eyes got even bigger.

"You mean-"

"Yes, **that **Veronica."

"And it's Blake now so-"

"Yeah, happily ever after."

Terra turned to Veronica, all smiles.

"I'm so happy to meet you," she gushed, smoothing her leafy gown nervously, "My great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother, may whoever cut her down decay and become fertilizer, was a tree outside Merlin's Keep. She said you were ever so polite with the asking, unlike the other two you always insisted on toting around with you. Oooooooooh I always wondered if I'd be so lucky as to meet you."

Tabitha frowned.

"But if you're here, and Veronica was in England then-"

"Seeds carried over by merchants. And Dryads have genetic memories you know," she said, tapping her head, "So what brings you here to our humble abode?"

"I needed some Dryad hair for-" started Veronica.

"Of course! Of course! I am honored," Terra said, ripping out one of the vines that grew on her head, "How much?"

"Um…that's fine."

"Alright," Terra beamed, thrusting the vine into Veronica's hands, "Come any time you need anything, we're always here for you or anyone you vouch for. The rest will be so excited to hear you were here!"

Before she could continue Terra said;

"But they're not as collected as me. Hm. So you'll be wanting to get back. Give them time to calm down. Do give that flower-smashing little, ahem, your **husband**, my regards."

Still squealing to herself Terra skipped back into her tree. As soon as she vanished Veronica looked dumbly at the vine in her hands.

"Not as collected as her?" asked Tabitha, "What, do they scream and faint?"

"You know, you made it sound like it would be hard. That was easy though," said Julian.

"Normally yeah. It's only easy now 'cause Veronica here has a fan club," smirked Bianca.


	9. Prompt 50: Quarterstaff

_**A/N: **__Done for kenobigirlliz._

50. Quarterstaff

"Nuh-uh."

"Don't make me make you."

"You can't make me."

"I don't think I should dignify that with an answer," said Balthazar, looking down at his apprentice from his place on the stairs.

"You could make me do things at the beginning, 'cause I was scared of you and you and all those plasma bolts, but nuh-uh. Not anymore. Never never never never never never going to do that."

"You said the same thing about swords Dave, and from what I've seen you're at least passable with them now-"

"Passable! I beat a knight from the middle ages!" cried Dave, looking at Balthazar with an incredulous expression.

"Don't get boastful now," Balthazar said, "He'd been dead for awhile so we're sticking with passable."

"Just because you suck at it-"

"That has nothing to do with it. Let's get back to the point. Your complaints were unjustified then and they're unjustified now. You seem to even like swords to some extent, as we can see from your defensive attitude about your skills." Balthazar said reproachfully, "Why are quarterstaffs any different?"

"Let's start with the chemical changes," said Dave, rolling his eyes, "The composition of metal and wood are nothing like each oth-"

He wasn't having that. Waving his hand he shot a few plasma bolts at Dave. He maintained his shield, managing to deflect the attack. At the same time he was levitating a few objects and having them orbit him clockwise and counterclockwise. His apprentice glared at him, clearly resenting the new addition to his training session. No matter. Balthazar was there to be resented. It was his job as a Master.

"Now let's give a normal answer to a perfectly reasonable question," Balthazar said, "No need to be a smart aleck."

"Rather I be a dumb aleck?"

He raised his hand threateningly, letting the blue electricity gather there. Dave eyed it with suspicion.

"Answer the question."

"They just are," said Dave sulkily.

Balthazar lowered his hand and looked at Dave's face. There was something else here, something that he wasn't quite understanding. Dave's age did make it difficulty. Although twenty he was little more than a teenager, and had all of the distresses that came with it. He didn't make as much sense as many adults. He emphasized 'many' since he'd met a good deal of morons. Bianca's predecessor for example, he was a real idiot.

However, Dave wasn't an idiot by any stretch of the imagination. He was smart and resourceful, even though that sometimes translated into smart aleck. Smart people were not easy to get along with, Balthazar had himself as a prime example. On the flip side he also had Horvath who, for all of his cruelties and obsessions, was still rather clever.

The smartness complicated things though. It served to make him more difficult to understand, a smart, steady, and reliable young person. It was uncommon enough these days. Balthazar had to think real hard to try and figure out what he was thinking. It was a difficult thing for him to do. He had to try to though. That was something he was forced to do more and more. As he concentrated comprehension slowly dawned.

"It's because I'll be teaching you, isn't it?"

The look of terror that came over Dave's face was priceless.

"**You'll **be teaching me?" he squeaked.

"I assumed you knew."

"Why isn't it going to be Veronica?"

"Veronica is a sword specialist," said Balthazar, "Weren't you the one who was going on and on about how different they were?"

"Yeah but-"

"She never bothered much with quarterstaffs," Balthazar interrupted, "They rely a good deal on brute force, not cunning like swordplay. Merlin never taught it to her either, didn't think it was worth it. Not many people did really. They were considered peasants' craft back then, not something the lordlings would teach their children."

"I thought Merlin was-"

"A peasant? Yes. He didn't like it because of the brute force aspect," said Balthazar, "But my brother always thought it was excellent jousting training."

Dave laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"Ever see that movie _A Knight's Tale_?"

Balthazar saw where the conversation was going and quickly sought to shut it down.

"Don't-"

"Just substitute yourself for Heath Ledger," joked Dave, "Just try it. Or better yet, one of his friends. Yes, I think the tall gangly one-"

"I most certainly will not," growled Balthazar.

"If you did you'd know how funny it is."

"I don't care. I'm not going to," said Balthazar stoutly, "And for your information I never actually jousted. I was much too busy magically."

"Or you just didn't want to look like Heath Ledger, or the tall gangly one."

"Mention that one more time and you're getting extra training," he snapped, thinking about his own teenage years with a shudder, "Quarterstaffs. Get your mind back to quarterstaffs and keep it there. So you're not worried about me whacking you over the head with a quarterstaff?"

"No, not until you mentioned it," he said, his levitating objects wobbling for a bit, "Now I am."

"So what was it back there?" he asked.

"It's just, what's the point?" demanded Dave, "I'm busy enough as it is without learning another weapon."

"Dave, has it occurred to you that there might be a reason that I want you to learn to use a quarterstaff? You might look back on our record and then try to figure out that I'm not just having you learn another weapon to-"

"Make my life hell?"

Everything in Balthazar froze up. He turned around slowly only to realize that Dave was grinning in a joking sort of way. The cocky expression fell off his face abruptly.

"I was just-"

"Yes, yes of course you were," said Balthazar, a modicum of feeling going back into his brain.

"When I said that the first time I didn't know-" tried Dave desperately.

"Yes."

"You see-"

"Will you **drop **it already?"

Dave fell silent. Balthazar stared broodily at the ceiling for a few minutes. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Dave was still levitating the objects around himself, although he was staring at them very intently. Balthazar wished that he had some of his brother's famed delicacy, but he wasn't that person.

"Don't tell Veronica," said Balthazar.

"Huh?" asked Dave.

"Don't tell Veronica that I said that. About hell and all that," he said, shifting in his seat uncomfortably, "I don't tell her too much about those years."

"She must've asked-"

"She has," Balthazar sighed, "And I told her that yes, they could be bad and that it was…hard to say the least. Whenever I talk about them I mention the good things though. I try not to think about them too much really."

He saw Dave shift his feet.

"I know it's avoidance, don't think that I don't," Balthazar said, "But I wallowed in everything that happened for 1300 years and it was well on its way to driving me crazy. I think I deserve a little time where I can be purely happy. They're gone and they're not coming back, so don't tell Veronica about it."

His apprentice nodded.

"You should've hit me you know."

"Pardon?" asked Balthazar, stunned.

"When I said that. Back then," he said, "I didn't know but I wasn't being grateful either. I mean, I **asked **you to teach me magic. All I did was complain. I still complain a lot."

"Yes, yes you do," Balthazar said.

"What I'm trying to say," Dave said, smiling a little, "is that you shouldn't have let it go. You should've-"

"Made you see the error of your ways?" asked Balthazar, "Made you read my section in the Incantus? Scrub the lab? Make a pilgrimage to Canterbury and say 'Hail Mary's on the way there?"

"Um-"

"Don't blame yourself too heavily," said Balthazar, "I had hoped to find the Prime Merlinian but I'd never really bothered to think that they might have their own agenda. So some of it was my fault. I'm sorry."

"Well so am I."

There was an awkward silence. Balthazar cleared his throat.

"I've got quarterstaffs in the back," he said, getting to his feet, "Get ready to start learning."

Dave groaned.


	10. Prompt 6: Unicorn

6. Unicorn

"So why are we here again?" asked Dave impatiently.

Ashley pulled another box out of the trunk of the car. She opened it to reveal small electronic tags. Dave had to repeat his question before she paid him any attention.

"I told you about a million times already," Ashley sighed, separating the tags into three different piles, "The North America unicorn herd comes our way once every year during their southerly migration-"

"Which makes no sense by the way. Horses are non-migratory, it's a bird thing so I don't understand why unicorns would be."

"They're related to Pegusi so it makes perfect sense if you think about it. Since they're in the area we just have to take numbers of the herd," said Ashley, "They're an endangered species and it's only in the past thirty years that the Merlinian community has tried to preserve their numbers."

"This doesn't explain why I have to be here in a tent," Dave argued.

Ashley gave him a look.

"It can take several days."

"Hmph."

"Might I remind you that you were the one who volunteered. We needed you to as well. You're the one with the car," she said, "Or at least the one that can get his car from his Master. I'd give my right arm for a car you know."

"Why can't you just borrow your parents'?" he asked, "It would make things a lot easier. It wouldn't be a three person thing otherwise."

She started to open her mouth before shaking her head fiercely.

"You know, I don't have to take this," she said, "I don't have to be out here. I have enough on my plate without having to do this whole thing. I have homework up to my eyeballs and my lodger is just adding to my stress."

"Why do you have a lodger?" he asked.

She shrugged.

"Merlinians stick together," she said, "He's doing important work, needed a place to stay. Dangerous work, work that we need to do to keep one up on the Morganians. But he stays up at all hours, uses hair care products that smell like sugar, and sneaks in more make-up than me. I say sneaks in because he's not supposed to have it…and then there's his eating requirements…it's an all 'round mess."

"Oh…" said Dave, "Yeah, I can see how that can be weird."

"Weird doesn't even begin to cover it," she said, "He's just so frustrating to be around. And…hm."

Picking up one of the tags she switched it on.

"He's funny but difficult," said Ashley, "A good guy but an asshole."

"That doesn't make much sense."

"If you'd met him, you'd know what I meant."

Sighing again she continued to switch on the tags.

"It would be a three person job anyway," she said, "I can't do this by myself. Not anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if I had a car it wouldn't be a three-person thing. Just a two-person one. If you want to go…you don't actually have to be here you know," she said, "I needed a ride up but you don't have to stay. You can come back tomorrow afternoon."

"And leave Becky here?" asked Dave, shaking his head, "I haven't see much of here lately."

"Romantic," smiled Ashley, "But you know the requirements right? We need a pure maiden to summon unicorns. That means two things; for one she couldn't have killed anyone. That counts me out."

Her eyes got a distant quality before they flickered back to the tags.

"I was fifteen," she said, "Morganian coup, down by Ellis Island. That was the first one. After that I didn't meet the requirements."

There was a long pause.

"I'm really sorry," said Dave, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm just a master at bringing up uncomfortable subjects."

"You're right about that," she grinned, "You know the other requirement right? Said maiden can't have, ah, you can fill in the blank."

Dave felt his ears grow hot. Ashley laughed nastily.

"Yeah, so no canoodling on this trip, or you'd have to answer to Kate," she said, "They used to use her for the unicorn project so she feels very strongly about this. After her they used Lacy and she was in my place. Not to mention that that conversation would be awkward for two reasons. First is the talking about the subject which is all around uncomfortable, then Becky's like her great niece or something-"

"I know."

"And you know how she feels about her family-"

"I **know**."

"Good," said Ashley, "Now normally we'd get Tabitha to do this. Only one who fills the requirements anymore. But she's got an ear infection this week and her mom won't let her out. So we have to improvise, and Becky's all we got."

"I guess that that makes sense."

"Ashley?" Becky called, stepping out of the tent, "I can't quite get the laces done up in the back."

He turned and felt a blush creep into his cheeks. Becky was wearing a white lacey gown in the medieval style. The dress had a low cut neck and both the sleeves and hem trailed on the ground. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders. Dave felt his breath catch in his throat and he stared dumbly.

"Yeah, the laces are tricky," said Ashley, getting up and walking over to her, "If you can just turn around."

There was a bit of fumbling and the sound of cloth being pulled in. Becky gasped as the laces were tied off.

"Is this really necessary?" she asked.

"White helps."

"How?"

"Dunno, just does," said Ashley, "This dress has been taken in so many times. Tabitha has a different one, she'd drown in this. But it's better if the laces are tied tight. And you've removed your shoes right?"

"Again I don't see how-"

"Hey, it's never steered us wrong before," Ashley said, "And we've been doing this for a very long time. We know what we're doing."

Becky turned and gave Dave a half-hearted smile.

"I feel ridiculous."

"You…you look beautiful," he stammered.

She smiled and he swallowed nervously. He needed to get over this. They'd been together for nearly a year now and he still couldn't seem to get his act together around her. Part of him wished he could be collected. Dave had a feeling that that wasn't going to be happening any time soon though.

"What did I say about canoodling?" asked Ashley cheerfully.

He felt his face light up. Becky looked back and forth between them.

"What **did** you say about canoodling?"

"Yeah, this couldn't get any more awkward," muttered Dave.

"Oh yes it could," said Ashley, "That's what **I'm **a master at."

Without giving time for Dave to speak she turned to Becky and said;

"I was just explaining to your boyfriend here that you two shouldn't be messing around in the woods."

Becky made a face.

"And you have officially killed the moment, and then you obliterated it into a million pieces," said Dave, "Can we just get this started?"

Chuckling to herself Ashley led them into the woods. She handed Becky half a dozen of the tags on strings.

"Just slip it around their necks, okay?"

"Okay."

Ashley grabbed Dave's arm and dragged him to the sidelines.

"What now?" he asked.

"We wait, that's what we do," answered Ashley.

So wait they did. Becky stood in the clearing, looking bored. Dave was getting very bored as well. Only Ashley kept watching. After some time there was a rustling in the bushes. He instinctively looked in that direction, as did Becky. A unicorn stepped out into the clearing, heading towards Becky. It stopped in front of her and tilted its head forward, lightly touching her forehead with its horn.

Becky reached out for it, momentarily forgetting about the tags on her arms. She stroked its silver mane.

"Now aren't you just…just," murmured Becky.

She continued to stroke its mane. Behind it a few others came out, one of them no bigger than waist high. Her face showed awe at the sudden influx of the creatures. She was transfixed, but remembered what she was there for. The tags were slipped around their necks dutifully but they remained and so did she.

"Now isn't that just beautiful?" asked Ashley wistfully.

Dave looked over the scene. The woods were dark, but the creatures seemed to cast their own light. The unicorns showed pure white around her, each one nuzzling her in turn. Becky's white seemed to make her ethereal, part of a picture of something magical and wonderful. Her hair was the only real color other than silver and peach and it shown brilliantly. It was like liquid gold flowing down the scene.

"Yes," he agreed, "Yes it is."


	11. Prompt 54: Musical

54. Musical

Veronica was getting out by herself more and more these days. At first she had been far too uncertain of herself to go shopping by her lonesome. She hadn't wanted to embarrass Balthazar by embarrassing him by dragging him into lingerie and women's clothing stores. So she had gone, done a bit of research, and shopped by herself. He had been outside of the store though, waiting for her. She hadn't considered herself being alone.

Those clothes had been…wrong in so many ways though. In no stage of her life had she been considered a fashionista. Morgause, her second mother, had had to pick out new dresses for her. She had always been fashionably turned out but it had never been because she had any real taste. It was just an option of picking out colors that everyone else was wearing and learning what worked for her.

Balthazar hadn't said a word about what she wore. From what he himself wore he wasn't exactly one to comment. It had always been a relief to her that she had found a man who didn't care what she wore. He found her beautiful and told her so often, but he never cared about those sorts of things.

Becky had been the one to introduce her to modern fashions. This had actually been how the coffee mornings had gotten started. Empire waists, shorter skirts, scooped necklines, princess sleeves, pencil skirts, cropped jackets, scarves, it was a new world. Veronica predominantly wore lilacs and creams these days with brown jackets on for when it got cold.

With her newly acquired knowledge of modern culture she had found the confidence to go out by herself. She was still learning to drive so Balthazar had thought it would be easier to teach her how to use the subway system. In some ways it was, although she disliked the New York crowds. Everything was still somewhat of a wonder to her, and she appreciated it accordingly.

Veronica, with her Medieval tolerance to pollution, had been overwhelmed at first by the city. Once she had collapsed from the smog. Balthazar had done a few spells to help though and she found herself building up resilience to the foreign bodies invading her lungs. Everything appeared to have a price in this new world.

On that day she was just window shopping. The Arcana Cabana was closed, though the shop was getting a steady constituent of a 'select crowd'. Some were kids that had come in there on a dare, and others were people who were just into whacky things. Members of the New York Merlinians, including the outworking spell casters, shopped there frequently now for the odd potion or charm ingredient. She suspected that it was mostly to see the shopkeepers; they had grown up with this story after all.

Her feet moved on the pavement, walking on a street almost completely free of the normally pesky crowds. She was in an unfamiliar part of town, but as long as she could find a subway terminal she was fine. Veronica peered into one window after another, her natural curiosity still working.

When she saw the music store she just had to go in. Many of the instruments she had never seen. The piano in the window was very different for one, as were the things that called themselves trumpets and trombones. Some of the instruments looked a little familiar, but they were somehow very different.

"Are you looking for something in particular?" asked the shopkeeper, a man in his forties.

"Oh, not really," she said, "Just looking."

He nodded in understanding and she moved on. Her eyes glanced over the music book selections. Most of it was foreign although Balthazar had given her a crash course in modern pop culture. Her fingertips traced the shelves and the unfamiliar titles. She was always going to feel a little out of place in this world.

Leaving the shelf of music she turned around to face a different instrument. This one was very familiar to her. It hadn't changed at all. She stared at it for a few minutes, not quite sure. Perhaps it had become electric or something. The more she looked though the more she could see that nothing at all had changed.

Tentatively she reached out her hand. Her fingers stroked the strings softly, playing out the harp's chords. The shopkeeper looked up briefly from his desk.

"That's an Italian Import," he said, "Not many people are learning harp these days, well, not most of the kids that we usually get in here. Not many school music programs have people who teach it, more's the pity."

"More's the pity," she agreed, "I haven't played one in…five years."

Five years was a correct estimate in a way. Morgause had been the last one to give her a harp lesson. She had never been particularly wonderful with it, but she had been passable. It had been an expected accomplishment for a young woman to have in those days. Morgause had fought a losing battle against the overwhelming male influences in her life. She must've done something right from the way that Veronica had turned out though.

"Do you know of anyone who does give lessons?" she asked.

The shopkeeper looked thoughtful.

"My sister-in-law gives a few lessons in here on Thursday mornings. She's not an expert but she's good for beginners," he said, "If you wanted to sign up for that. Or maybe you're thinking of a relative?"

"No, I'm thinking of me," laughed Veronica, "Five years is a long time."

"You're right about that."

She looked at the harp critically.

"It says it's for rent as well as purchase."

"That's right."

"Well," said Veronica, "Let's start out with rent and see how it goes."

Turning from the harp she returned back to the counter.

"So where do I sign up?"

Veronica did sign up and came dutifully every Thursday. Balthazar slept in late, so he never noticed that she went out for music lessons. Every now and then he did notice that she was gone, but Veronica incorporated it with her weekly runs to the grocery store so he never asked. It wasn't that she was keeping it a secret, it just never came up.

After about three months she had made a good deal of progress. She liked the way that her fingers flew from string to string, each one colored slightly differently so she could tell which was which. Her music teacher, Amelia, was helpful as well, recommending different grips. It seemed that she enjoyed having a pupil.

After those months were up Amelia admitted that they had reached the end of her personal knowledge. She wrote out a list of more advanced teachers that she knew, just in case she wanted to continue in her studies. She also left her e-mail address in case she wanted to stay in touch, which she did. Veronica took them, not yet deciding on whether or not she would use them. There was something that she had decided on though.

When her last music lesson had ended she went back out into the shop front.

"See you next Thursday?" the shopkeeper, whose name she had learned was Philip, asked as she came in.

"Maybe," said Veronica, "But there's actually something I want now."

"What?"

"I'd like to buy the harp."

Harps were, as she learned, rather expensive. She disliked throwing around cash, but she knew that it would be cheaper in the long run. So she used the credit card and arranged for it to be delivered the next week. Veronica went away from the store contented and excited about the situation.

The following Saturday she found out that Balthazar had used the last of the milk and forgot to say something, **again**. A little exasperated she went out and got some. It wasn't a long trip but when she got back she knew that she had been gone too long. The delivery man was standing in the doorway arguing with Balthazar.

"I said you had the wrong address," Balthazar said, irritated.

"Hey, I said you should read the thing," he snapped.

"Well I never ordered a…a…what is that supposed to be anyway?" he said, gesturing to the large package.

"It's a harp," Veronica said, hurrying up to them, "I got it."

Balthazar looked at her like she'd sprouted horns. The delivery man shrugged and handed the clipboard to her to sign. Everything in his body language said that it was all the same to him who signed the form as long as someone signed.

"Sign here. Do you need help getting it in?" he asked.

"No, we'll be fine."

"Suit yourself."

Veronica signed he drove away. She shrugged sheepishly at her husband who stood there, gaping at her like a fish.

"I buy things," she said.

"I didn't know you played the harp," he said blankly.

Veronica pushed the door open. Making sure no one was looking she waved her hand and the harp disappeared. She knew that it had reappeared in the living room.

"You never asked," she said, "I've actually been taking lessons for three months now. I've been renting this too."

He fell silent as they went inside and headed up the stairs.

"I feel stupid now."

"Don't. You sleep in late," she said.

Redirecting her attention to the wrapped up harp she waved her hand again. The wrappings were ripped off and deposited neatly in the trashcan. She looked over it critically to make sure that nothing had been damaged in the delivery process. Thankfully nothing had, at least from what she could see.

She ran her fingers over the strings, playing something that Amelia had taught her a few weeks ago. It was awkward because the instrument wasn't leaned back, but it was just to make sure that everything was fine. When she had finished she turned and looked at Balthazar who had started to grin a little oddly.

"I didn't know I had a musical wife."

Veronica grinned back.

"Start learning."


	12. Prompt 55: Oz

55. Oz

When Lacy had turned thirteen years old her friends had treated her to a movie. It wasn't an extravagant gift, rather cheap really. Movies were twenty-five cents to get into and a nickel for popcorn. Her allowance was seventy-five cents a week, so it was something that she could easily afford.

Going out was different. Her adopted father, John Steed, had a protective edge to him. This was understandable; she hadn't known that she was about to become the most powerful seer of the first half of the century after her Arcana. He had. Not to mention that she was frail and going out every day meant going back and forth to school flanked by her two bodyguards.

Rosamund and William always did try to blend into the background. They were talented sorcerers so it wasn't hard for them. She always knew they were there though and had gotten good at spotting them. The duo had taken the place of nannies in many ways for her and so it had been horrible when they had been murdered by Horvath later that day.

However, the start had been good. _The Wizard of Oz _had just come out and her friends had taken her to see it. She had chuckled at the portrayals of the witches. She was fairly certain that Morgana had never screamed 'What a world!' for one. Lacy also knew that Bianca, her father's then apprentice and a prominent sorceress, would never wear that sugary, glittering pink ball gown. It was ridiculous to expect otherwise.

Still, it was a good movie. She had enjoyed it immensely. Her friends had been happy and taken her to the soda fountain afterwards. There they had presented her with a beautiful bracelet that they had all chipped in on. Lacy was near crying when they gave it to her. It had seemed a wonderful way to turn thirteen.

Admittedly not thirty minutes after she left the soda fountain she was kidnapped and her bodyguards murdered. After that she was tortured into having her Arcana early by Horvath, a villain she had only ever known from the Incantus. She had heard her father and her father's friends, even some of her own friends, try to protect her in the ensuing battle.

After she had had that Arcana though she had felt like she was in Oz. Only, instead of the world becoming beautifully colored it became black and formless. The Arcana had taken her sight and left her only her hearing. Lacy was grateful that it had at least left her that, otherwise she wouldn't have been able to join the battle at all. The Grimhold would keep Horvath imprisoned for forever, or so she had thought.

For those first few months she learned her world all over again through touch and sound. She missed the colors and faces, always hiding her frustration with her sightlessness. Her father and everyone were just so glad that she was alive that they didn't think how she felt about being blind. Lacy knew she should be grateful for life at any cost, but it was hard when she needed help going down stairs that she had gone down every day of her life.

Her visions comforted her. In those visions she could see everything like it should be. She could see how she looked in the mornings, what the light looked like, she could see everything in her mind's eye. Lacy couldn't draw any longer normally, but when she had her visions she could draw with all of her old dexterity.

There was still a lingering sense of dissatisfaction with her life though. Everything only resembled what it had been. Nothing was the same. She was in the tornado that Dorothy had been in, only there was no magical world waiting for her at the end. There would just be continuing confusion and darkness. When her father bought her her guide dog for her, Teresa, then she even had a faithful furry companion who went everywhere with her.

She sat down on her bed one day and thought about it all. Lacy had been withdrawing into herself little by little, piece by piece over the past few months. She had gone to school, sang with her choir at state, and lived normally. However, at the same time she had also become quieter. Her father had noticed and was desperately trying to help her. Everyone was but they didn't understand.

Laying down on her bed she closed her eyes, although that didn't make a difference. If she was Dorothy though then that made her father the Tin Man. His cold demeanor made many people think that he was heartless but Lacy knew better. He loved her dearly, even though she wasn't even his biological daughter. It made no sense for him to feel that way, but he did and had taken her from what surely would've been a life of hardship and poverty into one of privilege and care.

Lacy giggled a bit at the vision of her father with an axe. She could extend the metaphor a little further. That would make Bianca the Scarecrow then. She wasn't brainless, just like the Tin Man really did have a heart. Sometimes when she spoke though, she could tell that her brain hadn't quite caught up with her mouth. When she was angry, she was fierce.

Finally there was the Cowardly Lion. Oh, that would be Robin. Dear dear Robin. Robin who wouldn't leave her, had tried so desperately to pull her out of her self-imposed isolation. He'd risked his life for her only to prove that he wouldn't abandon her. That wasn't something you got out of a fourteen year old boy. He was a boy who, for all of his physical frailty and poor magical combat skills, was so very strong. He insisted that he was useless while being one of the bravest people she knew.

In the stories Dorothy had pulled it together and led her band of misfits to the Emerald City. If Lacy had been in her place she would just have sat down on the yellow brick road and asked what the point was. She felt ashamed. She had survived one of the biggest magical battles of the century, predicted the birth of the Prime Merlinian, and now she was just going to wile away her life.

Lacy shook her head. No. It wasn't going to be that way. She wouldn't let it. She was alive, she was whole. Everything would be fine if she just kept her mind together. So she forced herself out of that rut in her life, struggling to do so. Almost immediately she felt the improvement coming over her.

When she started singing professionally at sixteen her opening number was _Somewhere Over the Rainbow_. She had insisted on it and she loved the way it sounded. Lacy quickly moved on to other songs and her venues became bigger. Balance had come into her life, both in the way she moved and in the way she performed. Everything had felt perfect.

In 1942 America declared war on the Axis powers. Robin had been eighteen, she had been seventeen. He'd joined the medical corps right away. He wouldn't wait to get drafted, and he had the experience needed to serve as a medic. She cried when he went away, cried so hard. She didn't let him see it though. Dorothy had only cried when things were completely hopeless. This wasn't completely hopeless.

Lacy took to singing in USOs. She had enough fame by that time in her life to do so. Her father wouldn't let her stray too far from New York. She couldn't blame him. It wasn't just dangerous with the war going on; the Morganians in the city were starting to act up. The daughter of John Steed would always be a prime target for ransom or revenge.

Life had been uncertain then, even for a seer. Then she had dream cast and met her granddaughter for the first time. She had been ecstatic but had bit back her big question; was Robin her grandfather? It was a legitimate question, but she had a feeling that she was better off not knowing. When he came back that night and proposed she had all but decided that it might be a wonderful world after all.

So much time had passed since she had been a little girl dreaming of Oz. She'd married Robin and had a wonderful son. Her father had died, she and Robin had shared the place of Prime for a few years. Then they had stepped down and her son, Gregory, had gotten married. She hadn't really liked her daughter-in-law, but she seemed to make Gregory happy and that was all that mattered to her.

Then that golden girl she'd seen in her visions was born. She had felt excited when she first saw her, and when they had given her Lacy's middle name. A few years later both her husband and her son were dead. Her daughter-in-law showed her true colors and, old though she was, she stepped in to care for the young girl. Becky had needed someone in her life to help her, and she wouldn't let her son's daughter grow up alone when she could do something about it.

Becky had always loved music. She begged her grandmother to let her learn to play the piano. Lacy herself had taught her, touch still being available to her. _Somewhere Over the Rainbow _was the first full song she learned, a gift for her grandmother's birthday. Lacy had cried and cried when her childish hands had plunked out the tune.

It had been the song she played at her graduation party. Her mother had come back to assert control over her and Becky had complied. She hadn't liked her but she was still her mother and Becky didn't want to burn that bridge entirely. Lacy understood. She also understood that one day Becky was probably going to have to dynamite it. Well, she could learn that in her own time. She wouldn't hear it from her.

That song had played when Lacy had taken off a bracelet from her withered wrist and given it to Becky. It had been hard to do, it had been the gift from friends and a husband now long gone. Becky needed something to help keep her strong though, and if anyone should have it Lacy felt that it should be her.

As a new teenager she had sat in the theater and wondered about that place over the rainbow. Perhaps it would be heaven, perhaps it would be perfect. Well, Lacy was in that place over the rainbow now. True, this wasn't the happily ever after that every girl dreamed about and begged for. Her love and son were dead, and she had outlived nearly all of her friends.

It was still a happily ever after. Her life was peaceful now, no threat of magical death daily hanging over her head. Becky was happy, wildly in love with a man who loved her back with that same passion. Bianca, her lost Scarecrow, had found peace when her immortality had faded. Even Balthazar, the man who had saved her from death when she was thirteen, had found his own 'happy ending' if anything could truly be called that. It was a good life that she had now, a beautiful encore in Lacy's twilight years.

Becky still came over occasionally. It was a long trip from the city to her house after all. The last time she did she had put in _The Wizard of Oz_. Lacy couldn't see it, but she could still hear the familiar characters. She listened to it and Becky watched; the two of them talking companionably.

The Tin Man. The Scarecrow. The Cowardly Lion. Her father. Bianca. Robin. She really felt like Dorothy now, and not just because her latest guide dog was named that. She had gone through obstacles in her life and now she had come home to a world that, while it might not be colorful, was her own.


	13. Prompt 89: Hair

89. Hair

The burnt smell was what had woken him up. Drake wasn't used to that smell. Yet, he figured it couldn't be anything serious. Ashley had probably just been cooking something. So instead of getting up he just buried his face in the pillow and relished its softness. It smelt nice, like spring. Craig washed his sheets once every other year and sometimes Drake could swear that he felt things biting him when he'd stayed there.

Not so here. Ashley's house was clean, almost impeccably so. When he had first come in he had thought that she might have a maid come in every now and then. After the first month and no maid he had caught her cleaning. Well, she had been cleaning as well as several mops and brooms that moved of their own accord.

In other words she had been the one who had washed the sheets. Drake wasn't quite sure if you could make clothes put themselves in the washing machine and set the spin cycle. He would have to write down the brand of fabric softener that she was using though. It was heavenly. If he ever got his own place again it would be useful.

The small shriek made him start though. He had been warned by Bianca that there was a possibility of Morganian attack at any Merlinian house. All of them had wards but wards could be broken. He flung off his blankets since Drake had been taught, despite his appearance and attitude, that fight was preferable to flight.

Running down the hallway the burning smell became more and more pungent. He skidded on his socks, yes he wore socks to sleep, as he tried to figure out exactly where it was coming from. Drake decided that it was the bathroom and he hurried down there. There were no signs of a struggle, and he couldn't sense any aura. He wasn't very good at sensing auras, but still…

Feeling a little awkward he knocked on the bathroom door.

"Yeah?" came Ashley's voice from inside, coming out a little squeaky.

"Everythin' alright in there darlin'?" he asked.

"Oh…um…yes, yes of course it is."

He narrowed his eyes at the bathroom door.

"Don't lie."

"No, I was telling the truth."

"Yeah?" he laughed nastily, reflecting on the knowledge that Merlinians tended to be awful liars, "An' I'm the bloody Queen."

That was the one useful thing that he had learned from Horvath. He had mentioned it in relation to Balthazar when Drake was going in disguised as Dave.

"You dress like her…" came Ashley's muffled voice.

Drake stood up straighter, squaring his shoulders.

"Care to repeat that?"

"I think you heard me the first time."

"I do not dress like an old lady," he insisted.

"Then what's with all the pastels?"

"You know I don't choose my own wardrobe," he said, "Your precious Master does it, remind me to thank her for that."

"You blend in."

"Yeah, and I'm just soooooo desperate to blend in," said Drake, "Moving on. Why does the air smell like someone took a blow torch to it?"

"It's not that bad…is it?"

"It woke me up," said Drake, "An' why'd you scream?"

"I didn't **scream**."

"Yelped then," he snorted.

For a few seconds there wasn't an answer.

"Promise you won't laugh," she said miserably.

A little shocked he opened the door. Ashley stood there, half of her hair curled amateurishly. With one hand she held what looked like a curling iron if Drake knew his hair care, and Drake knew his hair care. It looked like it had shorted out, while it still had some of her hair in it. The device now appeared to be glued to the hair that it had trapped. Smoke was slowly rising out of it even though she had apparently yanked the plug out of the wall.

Drake made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

"I knew you'd laugh," she said irritably.

He coughed.  
"Darlin', that wasn't a laugh," he said, "That was a sound of utmost horror. Hair is deadly serious. If you could've seen what I looked like before Bianca got ahold of me then you'd know that I'd never-"

"I've seen pictures," she said, "No one needs that much eyeliner."

Under his breath Drake counted to ten. Ashley had just been through what he considered to be a very traumatic experience and she couldn't know what she was saying.

"Now tell me what happened," he said.

Ashley sighed.

"My parents gave me this a few years ago," she said, "I'd never used it before but…there's the big game pep rally today."

Oh yes, how could he forget that? Ashley was even dressed in her cheerleading uniform for crying out loud. From what he had found out she was a cheerleader, as well as the captain of the archery team. It was a strange combination, but one that he found strangely irresistible. If only she were a year or so older…

"Some of the girls curl their hair," she explained, "And the coach said we should all do it to look similar. For visual points."

Now that was a crime making them all look the same. Visuals were interesting when they were different. It was almost as bad as the old man shoes, but not quite.

"And I thought; how hard could it be?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Apparently very," finished Ashley.

"You've never used one of these before?" he asked.

"No."

"Should've come straight to me. Never try this sort o' stuff on your own for the first time. Need at least one supervisor," he said, "I can figure out the rest. Was goin' fine for a while and it shorted out?"

"More like exploded," moaned Ashley.

With her spare hand she brushed some of her free hair away from her face. A few small burn marks speckled her forehead. She let him look at them for a moment before passing her fingers over them and letting them heal up magically. He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to figure out just what he could do. There was so much to be done after all and a limited amount of time was never a good attribute.

"Okay," he said, "How long do we have until your school starts?"

Ashley looked down at her watch.

"About an hour."

He rubbed his hands together briskly.

"Alright then," he said, "Let's get started."

From his own limited training he had done a lot of experimentation. Most of the spells he had figured out how to do had been cosmetic and cleaning. From what he had seen she could teach him a thing or two about cleaning spells. However, he was the grand high poobah of all spells cosmetic.

The first thing he did was disconnect her hair from the curling iron. It was actually a fairly easy job to do. The hair hadn't been too badly singed, not enough for anyone who wasn't looking for it to notice. Drake had tried to be careful with it but he could see her wince from the pull of the iron on her hair.

After that he had taken up her brush and carefully combed out the disaster of curls. There wasn't a spell that could take care of that, nor was there one to numb the skull. He had searched fervently for one, but there just wasn't. The brush's pull was hurting her quite a bit but he didn't even get a whimper out of her. Drake was impressed. He himself was a huge baby when it came to his hair.

Now came the best part. Drake cracked his knuckles. It had been a long time since his skills in this area had been called for and he meant to enjoy every moment of it. He concentrated and watched as light flowed into his ring. He touched the top of her head briefly, letting the light seep into her roots, before withdrawing his hand. Then he started to move his hand in weaving and swirling motions like he was conducting an orchestra. Ashley's hair followed it and twisted itself into perfect shiny ringlets.

Upon finishing Ashley looked at the mirror in surprise.

"It'll stay that way for at least ten hours," he said, "You'll have all the girls askin' for your hairspray. But mum's the word on that."

He pressed a finger to his lips and winked. Without a word Ashley threw her arms around his neck. He stumbled backwards, incredibly surprised by the suddenness of the action as well as his proximity. She pulled away from him, absolutely beaming. As she pulled a ribbon with her school colors on it from the counter and tied up her hair she said;

"Thank you. Just…thanks. And here I was thinking you were just some good-for-nothing freeloader."

"Ah, trust me an' you'll find I'm full o' surprises," he said, still a little shocked from the hug.

Laughing Ashley looked at her watch.

"Got to go," she said, hurrying out of the bathroom, "Thanks again, and don't blow up the house while I'm gone!"

"I'll try!" he called after her.

A few seconds later the door slammed shut. He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

"That was…unexpected," he muttered.

No, he couldn't afford to start thinking like that. He had a good thing going there, even with all of the awful clothes. Drake had to remind himself yet again that she was seventeen and the apprentice of the most terrifying woman in the entire world. Yet, every day it became a little harder to do so.


	14. Prompt 69: Subconscious

69. Subconscious

On some small level Veronica had known for quite some time. Weeks perhaps, maybe even months. No, not months. Everyone would've figured it out if it had been months. She would have to have been pretty stupid not to know that after so long. Still, she should've figured it out much sooner than now. Veronica should've known it on something much higher than just a subconscious level.

Looking in the mirror she clicked her tongue at herself. She had been stupid, stupid indeed when she had been trained to be smart. What would Merlin say? He was always telling them to follow their gut instinct and go for it. At the same time though he had urged delicacy, so perhaps his instructions were more confusing than helpful at times.

Again though, she should have known. She had, after all, come from a family of four children. Her mother had been seventeen when she'd had her first child. She had conceived within three months of the marriage, an almost unheard of speed. After that she'd had one child two years after the other on time every two years.

The only reason why Veronica had been the youngest was that her mother had started using primitive birth control after her. She'd had the know-how and the motivation. After all, three boys to split the estate between was quite enough, and there was only supposed to be one Hunt girl to inherit the spell-casting talent of the family. They were only middle class and they didn't need too many alternate heirs.

Balthazar had been from a much smaller family, just him and his brother. Two sons was some sort of providence for noble families but many smaller families found it a sign of not trying hard enough. Boys were needed to help run the farm and succeed their father. The more sons the more help with the work, the more daughters the more help with the chores. Veronica hadn't inherited this view but still.

From what she understood though his father had married late in life. His bride had been a decade and a half younger than him. She had borne Letholdus within two years of the marriage, rather good for a younger bride. Then her husband had been off fighting a war for several years after that. Balthazar was born almost immediately after he came back. They might've had more if the sweating sickness hadn't carried them away.

To sum it up they both came from fertile families. There was no shortage of possible dates either. Even before they had been married Balthazar and Veronica had craved the contact of the other. They'd spent over 1300 years apart, in the Grimhold or out in the world, which had made too much time apart unthinkable. There had been the morning kisses and no shortage of embraces or handholding.

There'd been nothing more serious than that, they had both been the height of 'old-fashioned'. After they had gotten married though…she blushed to think about that. Intimacy on that level wasn't something she had ever really contemplated. Again, over 1300 years of abstinence was probably a cause.

She had stopped eating fatty foods a while ago also. It wasn't because she didn't like them, because she came from the land of fatty foods. It was because the smell had started to make her sick. She hadn't told Balthazar that. His favorite foods were fatty steaks and such. Veronica had just politely declined. Her own episode in the coffee house a week earlier should've been a hint in the very least.

Her mother had been a midwife, very experienced in healing. She had started to train Veronica before she had died. Merlin had taught her the rest of her knowledge, that and her private study. She knew more than most women in her time had, and more than many men who were considered experts in their professions. By modern day standards she would've been considered an expert.

In short Veronica should've known that she was pregnant a long time ago. All of the signs were there. Perhaps she hadn't wanted to notice it because she thought that she might be wrong. Again, she probably already knew, at least on a subconscious level. Still, the child she had hoped for with her love since she was nineteen had finally been given to her, or so she thought.

To make sure she went online and double checked the symptoms. They were all there, every single one of them except the morning sickness. She expected that she would have that soon enough. It also said something about a pregnancy test, which she bought secretly and tried out. It read positive.

Despite her knowledge she hadn't told her beloved husband. Before she told Balthazar of her very likely suspicions she wanted to be absolutely one hundred percent sure. Right now there were still some doubts. There was to be no mistakes with something as important as this. If she was wrong then there was no call to be getting his hopes up as well.

They had discussed it once long ago that they both wanted children at some point or another. No specific dates had been mentioned and it was only chance that had left her pregnant this early in their marriage. From that conversation she had found out that being a father scared him a little, but he wanted to give it a go.

Seeing as he was already Dave's second father she didn't see what his nervousness. He was gruff but in an endearing sort of way. That sort of behavior just screamed a potential father figure. Veronica had never confirmed this with Dave but she had the feeling that that was how he felt about his Master.

Veronica felt a little like she was lying to him, not letting him know about her suspicions immediately. However, she had steeled herself against the doubts that she had known would assail her. She was doing the right thing. He might not thank her for it immediately but she was sure that she was doing the right thing.

She had learned a few things this time. There would be no repeat of the incident with the harp. She would let him know about whether or not she was pregnant before the doctor's bill came in. Veronica would be the one to tell him about the possibility of their having a child, not some notice sent out in a form note.

That day she got up at five to get to her appointment at seven. Balthazar was still asleep, as was his habit. Hopefully he'd sleep in until noon like the day before. She kissed him on the forehead before she went out, gently so she wouldn't wake him up. Taking a deep breath she opened the door and started walking out on the street.

Butterflies started to dance in her stomach from the minute she left her house. On the train she had to start taking deep breaths. A few of the other riders stared at her, but not many. All sorts of people rode the subway in New York and they were used to it if some of them looked a little neurotic.

The butterflies started doing cartwheels when she got out of the train. They only multiplied when she sat in the doctor's office, looking at all the women who were obviously pregnant. There were one or two women with hopeful expressions on their faces. Their husbands were with them. One of them looked discouraged but the other looked as hopeful as his wife was. With all of the people here having someone or already being confident Veronica felt a little out of place.

Still, she put on a brave front. It would've been nice to have Balthazar there to be nervous with her, but she had already made her choice. Picking up a magazine she started to read the first article she flipped to. After about ten minutes she realized that she hadn't taken in a single word. Veronica gave up trying to take her mind off of things after that. The task was too big for her to tackle alone in her frame of mind.

At long last the doctor called her name. She felt like everything was moving in slow motion after that. The doctor asked the usual questions, questions that hundreds of years ago she herself had asked anxious would-be mothers. After every question Veronica fidgeted nervously, clasping and unclasping her hands.

"First time?" asked the doctor.

Veronica nodded and the doctor smiled. She left the room briefly and then returned with a nurse. There was an examination which Veronica spent praying fervently. After that she went back out into the waiting room. Most of the people who had been out there before were gone now and it was all she could do to not think about the test results as the clock ticked away the time.

She was called back in. The doctor smiled at her again when she saw how agitated she was.

"Congratulations," she said.

Veronica let out a small cry and jumped up to her feet.

"Is there anything I should…I mean, I've never-" she started, thinking a mile a minute.

"Oh, there's a packet you can pick up at the desk," the doctor said, laughing, "Don't worry too much about it."

Feeling as though she was walking on air Veronica went home. She was so distracted that she missed her train. It didn't matter much to her though. She actually found it a little amusing as she sat down to wait for the next one. Everything after that was a blur, which meant that she lost track of the time.

Eventually she did look down at her watch. It was twelve. Taking a deep breath she pushed open the door to the Arcana Cabana.

"I hope you didn't buy another harp."

She looked up at Balthazar who was coming down the staircase that led to their living quarters. Veronica laced and unlaced her hands.

"No," she said, "I was…I was at the doctor's."

He stopped a step from the bottom. Balthazar took a deep breath in and then let it go. Only then did she realize how that must have sounded.

"Oh…um…"

"Is anything wrong?" he asked, his voice very deliberately calm.

Veronica breathed in. She hadn't thought how she was going to tell him, hadn't had the courage to think past the possibility of their child. Still, she knew that she wanted him to know immediately. Perhaps it was only right for it to be like this, like any other day before things changed. Just like she had known of her pregnancy.

She smiled and shook her head. Veronica walked up to the foot of the staircase. Taking Balthazar's hands she looked up at his confused face. Some small part of her knew that she was crying then, subconsciously. It was silent tears, just pouring down her face as she stood smiling at the man she had loved for so long.

"I'm pregnant," she said.

As soon as the words left her lips his face lit up. Before she knew it she was in his arms and being held tightly to his chest. He was talking, she was sure of that. Veronica wasn't sure what he said, just that the tone he used was happy beyond belief. Tears were still spilling out of her eyes, but that was alright.

She suspected that he was crying as well.


	15. Prompt 75: Pride

_**A/N: **__This story takes place the day after the previous chapter, 'Subconscious'. It helps if you read it with the idea that Balthazar has now had time to think things over in mind. _

75. Pride

Dave didn't understand. First he had been called at one and told that practice was cancelled for the day. Well, he said told but it had been more like texted. It had been misspelt even worse than usual, a sure sign that it was from Balthazar. Texted or told, either way it was highly unusual for Balthazar to cancel practice.

Now he was twenty minutes late for practice. Dave had a feeling that perhaps the next apocalypse was coming and that this was its first sign. He'd toyed with the idea that perhaps Balthazar was possessed. After all, the day after they had defeated Morgana at Battery Park he'd been in the lab flicking through the Incantus.

The man was resilient. Even if he had been injured somehow, a thought that made Dave a little worried, then Veronica would be down there to explain things. If it was serious enough for her not to be down there then she'd have called. Unlike Balthazar she had taken to the new technology well.

Feeling like something was wrong he started to study his Incantus. It was hard to concentrate with all the different possibilities running through his head. He turned each page, brushing past beautifully illuminated spells and instructions. He was bored and not in the mood for concentration. Dave was considering counting the pages in the massive book when the door at the top of the lab opened and Balthazar came in.

"You're late," Dave remarked.

"Yes," answered Balthazar flatly, "Sorry."

Dave blinked.

"Are you uh, okay?"

Balthazar stopped on the stairs and directed his gaze towards him. He shoved his hands in his pockets and he sighed.

"Is apologizing really that out of character for me?"

"…yeah."

"Hm," he said, "Something else to work on."

"What?"

"Nothing," said Balthazar, "Did you practice the glyphs I showed you?"

Dave looked at him blankly.

"For wards," he clarified.

"We did that last week," said Dave, "Remember? I mixed up the glyphs for hostility and welcome and there was a small implosion? Then you made me go up there and clean the bits of molten wood off the ceiling?"

Looking strained Balthazar rubbed his temples.

"Okay, what did I tell you to do the last time we met?" he asked.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dave asked, feeling both alarmed and concerned now, "Because if you're not-"

"Dave," interrupted Balthazar, "I know you think you're trying to be helpful, but you're not. You are, actually, making things just a little bit worse."

He raised his hand and parted his fingers by an inch.

"Just a little bit," he said, "So I would really, really appreciate it if you would just tell me what we did last time so we can get started."

"Geez," muttered Dave.

"Don't mumble and just tell me," he said.

"We were working on weather manipulation," Dave answered raising his voice.

"Good," said Balthazar.

"Or you said we were going to start doing it today, or yesterday as it were," said Dave, "We'd just finished with learning the quarterstaff footwork and you said we should be getting back to elemental magic."

"So I haven't actually taught you anything on the subject?" asked Balthazar, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Nope."

Balthazar shook his head as though trying to clear it. Deciding that it was better to just get it over with Dave cleared his throat.

"Look, seriously; what's wrong?"

"Dave-"

"You get to pump me for information about what I do, who I see, and where I go," snapped Dave, "And that's when I come into the lab looking a little off. You come in here and are talking about stuff that happened a week ago. Unless your wards have totally collapsed then you're not an imposter. So something is very wrong here, and you can slam me with a plasma bolt for saying it, but there you go."

There was a pause. Balthazar's eyes narrowed and for a minute Dave thought that he **was **going to slam him with a plasma bolt. Then he let out a groan and slumped down into the nearest chair. Burying his head in his hands he stared at the floor. Dave didn't say anything, far too shocked about what was happening.

"Would I be a good father?" asked Balthazar suddenly.

The question hit him like a punch to the stomach.

"What?"

"A good father," said Balthazar, "I've always wanted children at one point. But I've had time to think and I've come up with this; do you think I could do it? The years when the kids can't eat the food because there's too many vegetables, when they think there's monsters under the bed, when they're afraid of the dark. How about when they get older and start dating and failing classes and crashing the car? Add magic to that. Do you think I'd be any good at helping them through all of that?"

Pulling up a chair Dave sat down. He had no idea what think about the question, there had been no lead up to this bizarre question.

"What makes you think you wouldn't?"

Balthazar took his hands away from his face and rested his chin on them.

"Do I look like the kind of guy who would be good with that kind of thing?" he asked, "I'm a thirteen hundred year old man who has, literally, seen it all and has inherited all the bitterness from all of that. Be honest if that sounds like father material to you, I'll know even if you lie. You're horrible at it. I pray to God that you never go out for politics."

Feeling a little relieved from the humor Dave gave the question serious consideration. At long last he answered;

"No."

Nodding Balthazar sat up.

"I thought so."

"Whoa, let me finish," said Dave, "Looks are deceiving though. I mean, when I was ten I thought you were going to eat me or something."

"Eat you? Why-?"

"I was ten," Dave said defensively, "But like I said; appearances are deceiving. I don't mean to be mushy or anything but I'd trust you with my life. Ask anyone who knows you; you're insane dependable."

"I'm not asking if I'm dependable," said Balthazar.

"I'm getting to that," Dave said, struggling for words, "Look…fathers….it's all really difficult. I can't even answer that question properly. I mean, my father scrammed the minute he found out my mother was pregnant. I've never seen him in my entire life."

Dave paused, swallowing hard.

"And you know what? You were the first person in my life who came back. After the Arcana Cabana. People in my life would leave and they don't come back. I don't count Becky because I left her, which I still kinda feel bad about because I should've said goodbye. But you wanna know something that every kid kinda wants from their parent?"

Balthazar stared at him intently with the look that he usually reserved for when he was trying to figure something out.

"Reliability, someone they can look up to," Dave said, "I could never look up to my father because of what he'd done. But you'd never do something like that. That's why you'd be good at it, even if you don't think you will."

He stopped, out of breath and words. Balthazar grinned a little and for a minute Dave thought that he saw genuine pride shining in his eyes.

"Thank you," he said, "I needed that."

"Besides," Dave said, "I'm pretty sure that your kid would be pretty tough by proxy."

"Perhaps," said Balthazar, getting up, "Perhaps Dave."

Getting up he pushed his chair back into the desk.

"Let's get to weather-working."

Relief pouring over him like a waterfall Dave got up. He walked over to the Merlin's Circle, stopping only when he got to the inner circle. When he got there he started to do the warm-up exercises, levitating the chairs around the circle. After getting them to go into the appropriate pattern he decided to venture a question.

"Hey Balthazar?"

"Yes Dave?"

"Just curious," he said, "Why did you bring that up?"

Balthazar gave him a casual and cocky grin.

"Yesterday Veronica told me she was pregnant."

The chairs fell to the floor with a clatter.

"Surprised much?" asked Balthazar.

"Pretty much," Dave stammered, "How long…when…?"

"I can't say just when," said Balthazar, "But the doctors place her at around three weeks along."

"That…that's great!" Dave exclaimed.

Smiling to himself Balthazar waved his hands, setting the dropped chairs upright.

"Yes," he agreed, "Yes it is."


	16. Prompt 16: Vegetarian

16. Vegetarian

"For the last time no!" shouted Ashley in exasperation.

"Hey, I remember telling you about my dietary requirements when I first came in here luv," said Drake, holding up his hands defensively.

"I'm not getting okra," she snapped, "Every time I go out and try and get food you ask me to get some weird stuff. I haven't done much other than raise my eyebrows every time you ask for non-fat, sugar-free, low-sodium, stuff-that-spins-a-hole-in-the-universe-to exist. But now I'm sick of it."

"Okra is a very common vegetable," he said, "I'm not asking much here. There's nothing to eat in the house."

Ashley's jaw twitched. A nerve was throbbing in her head. Her arms were clutched around herself.

"Nothing in the house."

"That's what I said."

She turned on her heel and marched up to the refrigerator. Her hand grabbed the handle and flung open the door.

"What do you know?" she said sarcastically, "There's milk in here, celery, leftovers, some fruit, cheese, lunch meat, soda, yoghurt, and butter."

Slamming it shut she opened the refrigerator.

"Ice cream, frozen dinners, chicken."

"Now what you have to understand luv-"

He was interrupted when the freezer was shut with a mighty thump. Ashley strode over to the pantry and flung that open too.

"Cereal, ramen, various other types of pasta-"

"I'm a vegetarian," he said, "I can eat less than half of that stuff. I also have a slight allergy to dairy products and grain's nasty."

"Grain's nasty is not a good excuse. And what was that that I heard about a **slight** allergy?" she asked, "What's that supposed to mean? You only get a **little** rash? Your throat seizes up only **marginally**?"

"Now you're just being testy."

"I wonder why," snapped Ashley, "If you're only a little allergic than I think you can eat that dairy stuff without your head exploding. In fact, I think you'd be a little better to deal with if you have an **actual **complaint."

"All of my complaints-"

"Are completely insane! Stupid little things that you just won't shut up about!" she shouted, "I am sick of it! You spend more time in the bathroom in the morning than I do and I'm a teenage girl! You get in my way all the time and you play loud music. I have school! I have things I need to do!"

He grinned. God she looked amazing when she was angry.

"Like?"

"You wouldn't know. You dropped out of school at thirteen."

"School wasn't teaching me anything," he shrugged, "It's not like anything was going on and they thought I was sixteen. Probably shouldn't have told you that."

"So you wouldn't care," Ashley said, "You wouldn't care about all the stuff that I have to juggle day by day-"

"Actually I've wondered about that," said Drake, "You don't go out luv. I was hoping for at least one night for alone time."

"So you can do what exactly?"

"Not have to deal with a teenage girl who gets on my back every five minutes with all her complainin' about my healthy lifestyle," he said, "It would be nice you know. Very inconvenient to have you hanging around all the time."

Her fists clenched.

"This is my house, so if anyone is going to be inconvenienced it's you!"

With quick strides she went up to him. Every word she spoke was punctuated by a poke into his cranium. Each one hurt and he was sure it was going to leave a mark.

"So. Get. That. Into. Your. Thick. Skull!"

"Not the bleedin' face!"

"Yes the bleedin' face because otherwise you aren't going to be listening to me at all. It's all about the face isn't it?"

Alright. Things were getting out of hand.

"Darlin'," he said, grabbing her hand and stopping her from jabbing him again, "There's no call for you to be doin' that."

"Don't call me that," she said, "And let go of my hand."

"Fine then," he said, "Sweetheart. What we have is a failin' to communicate. That's what I think."

"I never asked for your opinion, and sweetheart isn't better anyway," she said, "Let go of my hand right now."

"If you want me gone," said Drake coldly, "Then you just need to tell me to go, get lost. I can go back to the Chrysler building even though it gives me the heebie-jeebies at night. Then I might have to go back with Craig and you know how well that turned out."

"I'm not going to tell Kate that I can't handle some asshole in my apartment for two weeks," she snapped, "I'm not going to fail. Let go!"

Drake stared at her cautiously.

"Is this really about the okra?" he asked, "Or is this about something else?"

"Let go!"

He looked around the living room. The more he looked the more he realized that something was very wrong.

"There's no family photos here," he said, "Nothin'. Not even the school pictures. Even my mum kept a few of mine, awful photos they were."

Ashley stared at him, completely horrified.

"No family trips, nothin' at all. I haven't even seen a picture of your parents anywhere. Only things around here are yours," he said.

Even as he spoke he started to figure things out.

"How long have your parents been gone exactly?" he asked, "More than a few months I'd be willing to bet."

"Drake, let go now," she said, her eyes blinking back tears.

"How long?"

"I don't want to-"

"How long?"

"Don't-"

"How long?"

"Five years okay!" she screamed at him.

He blinked in shock.

"Five?"

"Yeah, five," she snapped, crying now, "Every month they wire money but I haven't seen them for five years. I used to have a nanny come in to care for me until I turned fourteen and they figured I could take care of myself."

"You were twelve-"

"Closer to thirteen," she snapped, "A nanny at my age, can you believe that? And my brother, he's been in his exchange program for a long time; probably because he's going to college in Germany. He's my **older** brother, no one ever bothered to ask. I'm just a side note in most places. I'm Kate's apprentice but not much more. **Now will you let go of me**!"

He released her hand. She glared furiously at him.

"I have not told a living soul that," she said, "And you got that out of me. I hope you're happy about that you piece of-"

"I'm not happy about that," said Drake quietly, "My father abandoned me and my mum when I was four. Never knew him and he left us with nothing but a basketful of debts. Mum was always running around with some guy or another. Fell in love every other week, thought she could get the guys to marry her. They did once or twice, but they never stuck around for long."

Sighing he added;

"Then when I was seven my Master found me."

Drake breathed out and ran his hand through his now brown hair. Ashley was looking at him now, her eyes wide and uncomprehending. At least she was listening with her full attention and had stopped crying. That wasn't something that he was used to, the listening and the full attention. He felt uncomfortable, but he had taken her dirty laundry out and showed it to him. She might as well have his now.

"He wasn't a great guy, but he was solid and he was there," Drake said, "Did I know that I was becoming the villain in the fairytale? Yeah, yeah I did. Did I care? Not particularly. It was something that happened day to day."

He sat down on the couch.

"And then he left too and I wandered around vaguely, not knowing what to do," he said, "There was a talent competition. I lied about my age, changed my last name, and entered. And after that you probably know the rest."

Breathing in sharply he steepled his hands around his face. His chest was rising quickly. Each one was shorter and sharper than the last. The warmth reflected onto his face. He couldn't see anything except the inside of his hands. It was dark there and he couldn't see Ashley's expression.

"So no sweetheart, no I don't feel happy about having you say that," he finished, a touch of bitterness creeping into his tone, "I'm sorry about saying that and I'm sorry you had to listen to me complaining **yet again**."

Ashley didn't say anything, just sat beside him on the couch. "I'm sorry too."

He didn't take away his hands.

"Does this mean you're getting the okra?" he asked.

She punched his shoulder playfully.

"Asshole."

"Don't I know it luv."


	17. Prompt 5: Death

5. Death

Dave moaned as the doorbell rang. Even Tank from his position on Dave's chest gave a small whimper. He turned his head and stared at the clock beside his bed. Upon seeing the time he promptly rubbed his eyes to make sure that he was seeing clearly. He was. To his shock and disbelief he saw that it was one in the morning. He shouldn't be up this early; this was his one day to sleep-in and now it was one in the morning.

The doorbell rang again, clashing with the sounds outside of a cold spring rain. He considered letting Bennet answer it and just going back to sleep. It was only then that he remembered that Bennet wasn't home. He was off visiting his someone-or-another and had left the day before yesterday. Some people didn't have to fill Spring Break with magic training. So he was the only one who could get up in the cold and answer the stupid door.

Pushing Tank off his chest, the bulldog whimpered in protest, he padded down the chilly corridor. The doorbell rang away and Dave was tempted to have the thing pulled out the very next morning. He gritted his teeth and switched on the light. For a minute it blinded his eyes and he had to blink it away.

Now the person ringing the doorbell was now pressing on it over and over and over again. How inconsiderate could you get? A small throbbing pain was coming behind his eyes, a sure sign of a headache on the way. No way was he going to be able to get back to great reluctance and irritation he opened the door.

Becky was there. Dave was suddenly aware that he was clad only in an oversized shirt and boxers. His hair was never looking particularly good but at this time in the morning it probably resembled war zone. He began wishing that he'd thought to put on a bathrobe or coat or something before opening the door. Perhaps he could have even combed his hair with his fingers. It wouldn't have been perfect but it would have been an improvement. Maybe if he was real lucky it would've been presentable.

He was about to mumble some excuse before something made him stop. Blinking Dave slowly took in Becky's state. Her hair was disheveled and her clothes weren't the usual fashionable ensemble he always saw her in. They looked thrown together like they were the first things she'd reached for. Becky was drenched from the rain, but most alarmingly her eyes were red and puffy like she'd been crying.

"Becky," he said, "What's wrong?"

In response she grabbed the front of his shirt and began sobbing into it. Shocked he wrapped his arm around her in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Not wanting anyone else to see her in that state he quickly shut the door and latched it with his other hand. Then he carefully led her to the couch. Her legs were wobbling and he knew that if he didn't sit her down soon she'd collapse soon.

She didn't seem to notice that she'd been moved when they reached the couch. Becky just kept crying and Dave started to rub her back in circular motions. He found himself saying empty comforting words despite the fact that he didn't even know what had happened. After what seemed like an eternity she pulled away and looked up at him.

"I got a call about three hours ago," she said.

He waited, unsure of where this was going.

"My…my grandmother died," she said, "It looks like it was heart failure but it was so sudden. Joanna…she's the maid…she was just going out for the night and then Dorothy started barking and…."

Becky trailed off and wiped her nose. Dave looked at her, absolutely floored. He had had very little contact with Becky's grandmother, Lacy, even after they had found out that she was a seer. From what he knew she had basically raised Becky after her father had died. Even after she had grown up Lacy had been a constant source of support.

"When I found out…I couldn't even…" she said, "I couldn't even move. I was alone. My roommate's gone down to Florida but even if she was there she wouldn't be able to…I thought it was good that I was alone but it wasn't. I tried to just calm down but it became too much and I just couldn't be alone and-"

"Don't," interrupted Dave, "I'm here, okay? I'm here for you, alright?"

She nodded once before burying her head in his shirt again. He held her and let her cry for some time more. Dave wondered what to say to her, if anything could even sound remotely comforting enough. He didn't think it was possible though, and just kissed her forehead and reassured her that everything was going to be alright. Dave hoped it would be. It was the only thing he could think of to say.

When she pulled away for the second time he gave her another gentle kiss on the forehead. Then he slowly got up. He went into the kitchen and filled a large glass full of water. This was the only time in his life that he had had to comfort someone, but he knew that by this point she must be dehydrated. It might calm her down a little. She looked at him gratefully when he handed her the glass. Becky drained it before staring at the ground.

"It's early, I woke you up," she said, "I'm sorry. I'll go-"

"No, don't be sorry," he said, his mind suddenly reeling at the idea of her going back out there alone, "But you shouldn't be travelling in this state. I would've come over there if you'd called. I don't think you should go back out thoguh."

"I'll be fine," she said.

"It's still raining," he said, "It's dark out, it's early in the morning, we're in a big city, and you're upset. Do any of these sound like an attribute of an ideal travelling state?"

Becky continued to stare at the ground for a minute.

"Alright," she conceded.

"Okay," he said, feeling relieved, "You take my bed. The couch folds out. I can use that."

"Dave-"

"My bed's more comfortable. Not exactly a five star thing, but it's better. Don't argue this time, 'kay?"

He saw her mouth turn up slightly at the corners. It was promising. Suddenly Becky started to look a little embarrassed.

"I uh…need to change out of these," she said.

"Yeah," he said, "You could get a cold or something. Can't have that. I'm guessing you didn't use an umbrella?"

Becky's face turned a little red and he wondered if it was an effect of her tears.

"I wasn't thinking straight," she admitted, "not even sure I'm thinking straight now, but I just went out and I didn't bring anything with me. Taxi cab fare but other than that, nothing."

She paused and Dave suddenly understood. He blushed and stammered out;

"Yeah, of course, of course you can borrow some of mine…uh…yeah."

Nodding she got up.

"No," he said, "I'll get it."

He hurriedly went into his room and pulled out a few oversized t-shirts that weren't too embarrassing. Part of him couldn't believe that he was still thinking this way given the situation, but he was still himself and thus given to bouts of insecurity. The shirts he picked were clean and didn't have any holes in them. They were about mid-thigh length on him so they would probably go to Becky's knees or so. Deciding on a gray NYU shirt he came back out and handed it to her, still blushing.

Her hands reached for it and she mumbled her thanks. Becky went into the bathroom and Dave heard the shower turn on. Deciding to get to work he went back into his room and made his bed. He actually changed the sheets since the other ones had too many marks from Tank's slobber. Then he went back into the living room and readied the foldout couch.

Dave had just pulled the blanket back and gotten into it when Becky came into the living room. He smiled a little at her, nervous and unsure of what to say. He knew that she had been crying in the bathroom too from the redness of her eyes. There wasn't much he could say to fix that though. For all of the magic he'd learned, for all of the magic he was still learning, he didn't know how to fix this for her. He wished he could.

"My bed's ready," he said, going up to her and putting his hands on her shoulders, "Come to me if you need anything, okay?"

She stared at him for a minute before nodding.

"Thanks," she said, turning around and leaving.

Going back to the fold out bed Dave got in. Tank settled himself on the foot of the bed, though he got the feeling the small dog would somehow end up on his chest in the morning. He reached for his cell and texted Balthazar. He was going to be missing practice the next day. He wasn't willing to leave her like she was; Balthazar of all people would understand that.

Dave put the phone away and started to fall into an uneasy sleep. He was still worried about the woman he loved sleeping in the other room. Despite all the crying he had the feeling that she was still holding back. He also had a sinking feeling that this sort of tragedy wasn't something a person got over any time soon.

Around an hour later he felt a weight shift on the fold out bed. The old springs creaked loudly. Looking to the side he saw Becky climb in.

"Um," he started, feeling the tips of his ears grow hot.

"I couldn't sleep," she said, not noticing his discomfiture and resting her head in the crook of his neck, "I just…"

She paused, placing one hand over his chest.

"She's just been part of my life for so long," she said, tears building in the corners of her eyes, "I've never been without her. No matter what was going on in my life she was always there to help. I don't know…she was a mother to me when my own preferred to be snuggling up with rich men. She was a parent and a friend and I could talk to her about anything."

He wrapped his arm around her and listened.

"And when I found out about what I could do she was still there, still supportive," Becky said, openly crying now, "I just feel like part of me's been ripped away."

She stopped.

"I'm sorry," Dave said quietly, "And I'm sorry I can't help."

Becky shook her head fiercely.

"You're helping, you're helping. Just…just keep…keep," she tried, "Oh God Dave, just keep being here."

She broke down. Dave kissed her tear trails and drew her closer.

"Don't worry," he promised, holding her while she cried, "I'm not leaving."


	18. Prompt 64: Gryffin

64. Gryffin

Bianca sat in the middle of the Chrysler building's practice room. She was inside of the Merlin's Circle that had been carved into the floor long ago. For her comfort she had grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her. This made sitting on the cold floor where the caster normally stood, her legs tucked underneath her, much more comfortable. The circle was lit, but there was no spell being performed. As a precaution she had locked the door, but any of her sorcerers who came here knew better than to disturb her.

If anyone didn't, probably Drake, then Jack could tell them. He'd seen this before when he was a young man, back when Robin and Gregory had died. He knew a little how to deal with it or rather how to avoid it. All anyone had to do was wait it out. She'd be fine after that day; she would always be fine after one day. Bianca knew her duty and she wouldn't shirk it. However, she needed that one day of unmitigated mourning.

He would act in her stead that day. He was a good man and there wasn't anything that could happen in a day he couldn't handle. She had hoped he wouldn't try to be clever and call George though. Jack was too much of a humanitarian, thought too much of the human emotional angle on everything. Calling George would be humiliating and completely out of line. None of his business as one might say. Public displays of emotion were something that Bianca Genevive Lawrence simply **did not do. **

Not to mention that George himself would be a problem. Bianca knew the way her lover's mind worked. He'd be down there in an instant trying to comfort her. If he did end up coming then she'd have to demote Jack and send George away. He wouldn't do any good in the present situation.

It wasn't that she didn't want him near her. She loved him and was even willing to marry him if he asked her. Bianca had no doubt that he would ask her one day, he had done it once in the past already. She had said no that time. Circumstances had been different then though. Bianca had wanted to say yes and he had known that, although it could never really be acknowledged. So one day things would be different.

He wouldn't understand either. It wasn't like she blamed him though. He had only been on the planet around forty years. So she couldn't expect him to know that duty always came first. The Grand High Sorcerer of England couldn't come at a moment's notice to hold a sobbing New York Prime.

Things didn't work like that. It might seem like a good idea and feel wonderful, but the consequences would be dire. There could be a loss of trust and an opportunity for political slander. They were both in very tentative positions. He needed to recognize that. Perhaps he would, but he was too sentimental to understand that part of her.

She looked down at the object clenched in her hands. It was a photo encased in glass and in a mahogany age. The picture was very old and browning with age. The edges were curling a little. However, it was still there preserved by the magic of successive Primes and Historians. It was something that deserved to be preserved certainly.

It portrayed all of the New York Merlinians, or how they had been back in 1941. It had been two years after the event with Horvath and one year before America would enter World War II. Things had been going on then but for the most part the city was quiet. Most of them had felt that it was just the eye of the storm they were passing through, but they all took the time to enjoy it.

The picture was one way that they had indulged themselves. Pictures were less expensive but it had always been difficult for getting everyone together at one time. Everyone was always in the middle of something. This time though they had double checked schedules and ordered everyone to be there.

Bianca had been clinging to her flapper dresses from the twenties. She had never been old enough to wear them when they had been fashionable, but she had looked forward to it. When they had gone out she had been furious. In retaliation to this she had retailored several more modern dresses to look more like they had in the twenties.

It had been her own little rebellion, along with her ridiculously high heels. Even in these modern times when the independent woman was the norm she still wore those kinds of dresses. She still smoked, though she was thinking of quitting due to the fact that she could get lung cancer now.

Lacy had been dressed and poised very proper, that was just how she was. Her eyes were filmy and unseeing, but this had been a few months after she had slogged herself out of her depression. Teresa, her guide dog, sat next to her. Lacy had one gloved hand on her head and the other by her side. She was smiling brilliantly, wearing a white dress with pink floral print. That had been the height of fashion back then. From what Bianca remembered it had been silk, the last silk dress that any of them had bought in a very long time.

Standing next to her, all of the younger ones were in the front, was Robin. He looked a little nervous but other than that fine. He had been calling on Lacy regularly for around two years by that point. Magically he had been reckoned one of the most talented healers in America. That was what John Steed as a Master could do to you.

He had also gone through a growth spurt and started working out more. As a result of this he'd tried out for the football team at his local school. In 1942 he'd be appointed team captain and win an astounding victory. After that he'd go off to war in the Medical Corps and Bianca had feared for losing the boy who had grown up as her brother. She shouldn't have worried. He was made of strong stuff.

Normally he wasn't so nervous around cameras. Lacy made him a little awkward, but the real reason was one row back. Her father, John Steed, was standing behind the two of them, big and imposing in his dark suit. Well, the picture wasn't in color since they didn't have color back then. She just remembered him wearing a black suit then. Both she and Robin had been his apprentices when their Masters had died from age or Morganians.

His dislike of Robin had made Bianca mad and when she got mad everyone knew. His treatment had caused a temporary rift between her and John who had acted as her mentor for so long. It became water under the bridge after about a year, since it had stopped, but she had wondered about it. She couldn't help but wonder about it though. He had always been a firm but fair Master to her and she didn't understand why he wasn't like that to Robin.

She had found out later from Mr. Preston the real reason. It hadn't been Jack, it had actually been Jack's grandfather. He confided in her that Lacy had drawn a picture of Robin and her getting married a long time ago. It had been a vision and a pretty definite one at that. It was just like John Steed to play the big domineering father and Master to two individuals he cared very much about.

Exhaling slowly she put the picture down. That had been a long time ago. All three of them were gone and had lived their lives in normal progression. In Robin and Lacy's cases they had gotten married and had children. She hadn't. She'd been immortal and, compared to Balthazar, she shouldn't complain. Bianca was just ninety-four years old with the appearance of a thirty-five year old. She didn't have centuries under her belt like some, so she knew that she had been very lucky.

Still, she had been immortal just long enough for it to hurt. No one she had grown up with was alive anymore. All of her friends were gone, fallen in the constant battles that the Merlinians fought or betrayed by their own bodies. Lacy had been her last link to that strange and distant past. Everyone she was with now were the descendants of her friends or their apprentices. Yes, by this point she should be moving on. Was it hard? Incredibly so.

Next to the picture was a small golden box. It had started to show signs of tarnish just like the picture. There was only so much you could do on a box like that. It was much, much older than Bianca. It didn't even belong to her, had just been placed in the vaults of the Chrysler building for safe keeping.

Slowly her fingertips edged towards it. Bianca undid the latch and paused for a minute, her fingers touching the rim of the lid uncertainly. It felt wrong opening this box, but she would have to now. As the Prime of New York this was her duty, or would be when she was ready to face the outside world. Taking a deep breath she took the plunge. Opening the box she laid her eyes on a golden Gryffin pendant nestled in red velvet.

She reached for it but stopped again, shaking her head. It wasn't hers to touch. Lacy had never liked it much. She had once told Bianca that it felt uncomfortable to wear after the many times she had seen her father wear it. Oh, there were times when she pulled rank with other Primes and worn it. That was only when she needed to remind them whose daughter she was though. It wasn't because she liked it.

Bianca hadn't liked it either. She never understood why the Steed family had chosen the Gryffin as their symbol. There was no way to sculpt that thing to look as noble as its description. However, it had been chosen a long time ago when Merlinians still used coats of arms. Not many of them still had a family guardian creature. Merlinians tried never to hold much rank with ritual, though it still happened repeatedly where old ceremonies were being clung to because of their nobility.

Now it was going to be Becky's. There was a chain that went with it somewhere, or did that have to be replaced because it belonged to someone new now? Bianca couldn't remember how that worked exactly. It wasn't like she had had to hand one of these out in the past. She had only just become Prime the previous year after all.

How would Becky react to receiving this? Bianca had never been one for tactfulness. That had been one of the many reasons why she hadn't wanted to become Prime. However, things had changed. They were always changing and she had to adapt to them quickly. You adapted or got left behind, and she had no intention of getting left behind.

Sighing she wrapped herself deeper into the folds of the blanket. The box was still open, its contents staring at her accusingly. No, tactful or not things would have to be done. That was duty. Everything else was frills. Bianca never knew quite what to do around the grieving; but she knew one thing; do your duty.

She had done her duty when she was told that she needed to be immortal. Bianca hadn't been some stupid apprentice. From everything that she had read, from meeting Balthazar, she had known what immortality meant. She knew what it would cost her. Nonetheless she had done it. She hadn't had a choice. It was only at times like these that she could bring herself to show her true feelings about the whole matter.

Tears pricked her eyes. Bianca wiped them away. No, no more tears. Her day was almost up and she would need to prepare herself for the outside world. Besides, she knew that out there Becky was grieving more than her. Lacy had practically acted as her mother. When she gave her the symbol of her house she'd need to keep that in mind. Everything seemed a little less intense when put in that perspective.


	19. Prompt 26: Linguini

26. Linguini

Two weeks of Spring Break. Two weeks of their roommates being gone and no outside interruptions. Fourteen days or three hundred and thirty six hours. Dave could calculate the minutes as well but he had a feeling it wouldn't be such a big deal. It didn't matter how you said it. It wasn't enough time to help Becky.

Realistically they had only that time until life would start to seep in again. Bennet and Jill, Becky's roommate, would be back by then. Professors and schedules and books would pour in. The radio station would resume its broadcasting. Life was, to put it crudely, going to go on no matter what.

Balthazar had, once he had understood the situation, told Dave that he didn't need to bother coming to practice for a while. It had come in a brief and badly spelt text so Dave knew it wasn't Veronica speaking through him for once. Balthazar had known Lacy too and understood without Dave specifying what he needed the time for.

No matter. Even with just about nothing going on it wouldn't be enough. Becky had, for lack of a better word, moved in with him. It was a temporary measure but one they both knew was for the best. Unlike that first night she had brought her own clothes as well as several other necessary items.

At first Dave had given her his room and started to sleep on the couch. However, in the middle of the night she'd get into the habit of crawling in next to him. Dave wouldn't say a word about it, just move over so she'd be more comfortable. After a few nights she stopped going back into his room and just got in next to him.

Dave was trying to be accommodating, not that he actually minded her being so close to him. He didn't mind sharing his apartment with her no matter how squalid it was in all actuality. She had trouble being alone in this situation. That was fine since he had trouble with the idea of her being alone. She needed to be surrounded by people at all times, people who would take her mind off of things. Dave was trying desperately to be that crowd.

She was alone really. Her only family other than her mother, who was out of the question for something like this in every possible way, was Bianca. While Bianca was trying to be a good great-cousin, or whatever it was, she hadn't known Becky for her entire life. Not to mention that she was somewhat emotionally stifled. That wasn't her fault; Balthazar was the same way only in a greater degree. It had something to do with being an immortal for a time. That was Dave's theory for what it was worth.

Becky was with him now though and he had no real idea how to deal with it. He tried to distract her. She needed to finish her physics homework and he worked on that with her. Dave even shared a few corny physics jokes he had gathered from his many physics shoot. They went to Central Park or book stores. He rented movies, glad of his Netflix subscription. Once he took her out to the city limits so that she could see a colony of faeries.

He tried everything, but nothing was working. His efforts produced only feeble results. Becky smiled sometimes and he knew she'd forgotten. It would come back though and he would see that deep hurt in her eyes. She didn't cry like she did that first night, but she would lean her head into his shoulder and he'd know what she was feeling.

There had been a period of about a day when he thought that everything was okay. The night before she'd been able to sleep without Dave by her side. While he missed the feeling of her he told himself that she was making a small step towards recovery. That was worth everything. The next day she had functioned perfectly normally, laughed with some abandon. He hadn't seen that tension in her eyes that he had become used to. That night she had once more been alone in her room.

In the middle of the night he had awoken to the sound of crying. Becky was sobbing in her sleep and he had known that she was far from alright. He had woken her up and slid in beside her at her request. It was cramped, his bed was only a twin size after all, but he didn't have the heart to move her off into the couch bed. Not just yet.

After four days the day was set for Lacy's funeral. Bianca arrived at his apartment to tell him about it, or more specifically to tell Becky. In response Becky had nodded through it all, nodded at the fact that in three days her grandmother was going to be buried. Bianca had also, with great trepidation, given Becky a golden box with her family symbol in it. A Gryffin. Dave found that somehow appropriate. How he couldn't say, he just did.

The rest of the day was fine. Daytime was always fine, probably because there was always something to do. Nighttime was the worst. That night in particular was the worst, when she had been told the date of the funeral. He doubted either of them slept for more than a few minutes. Every time he drifted off her body would be wracked with sobs and he'd be up comforting her, or just holding her closer so she would know that she wasn't alone. Even Tank managed to pick up on the mood that night and whimpered softly.

Becky kept insisting that she felt bad for doing this to him. Somehow that was one of the worst parts. She seemed to think that she was intruding on him and looking weak. Dave had never lost someone who meant anywhere near as much as her grandmother meant to her. There had been the hours when he thought he had lost Becky, but those hours had been mercifully short and numb with all-penetrating pain. There had never been an afterwards.

His own helplessness in this matter was frustrating. As Lacy's funeral approached he saw Becky shut herself off a little more. There were no more night terrors but that meant that there weren't any releases of emotion either. Dave wished that she could tell him what she needed, but he doubted that she even knew any more.

She was shutting herself off and he needed to do something, fast. He had suggested going out to dinner, but Becky had refused saying that she didn't feel like going out. That was why he was doing something as stupid as trying to cook. Tank sat at his feet, looking at him with his sappy, sympathetic eyes.

"This shouldn't be hard," he told Tank, "Bennet does it all the time."

He felt Tank settle himself a little closer to his feet. He was probably hoping for scraps. Yeah, he'd be disappointed.

"He says that linguini's the easiest thing in the world to make," Dave said, fishing out a few pots and pans, "From what it sounds like it's you just put the noodles in the water and you do the scallops in a separate pan. Just like a salad only you cook everything first. Then you just stir in the sauce, right?"

Tank just kept staring.

"You're no help at all," snorted Dave as he watched the water in the pot, waiting for it to boil, "I guess I should start on the scallops…"

He put them in and everything went fine. They started to crisp and he lowered the heat. At least something his mother had taught him hadn't gone in one ear and out the other. In a separate saucepan he opened up the jar of tomato sauce. When it was heated he added the scallops and tasted it. Maybe some cheese was in order.

He added a large quantity of mozzarella, shredding it first so it would melt easier. He wasn't really sure if that was one of the appropriate linguini ingredients. Still, it made it more of a comfort food and that was what he was aiming at. Seeing that the water was boiling he got out the pasta. Without even thinking about it he opened the box and poured it all in at one time.

"See?" he said haughtily at Tank, "Nothing to it, nothing at all. Why you never have any confidence on me I don't know-"

In hindsight he shouldn't have had so much water in that pot. The water shouldn't have been boiling to that extent. He probably shouldn't have added all of the pasta in at once. Still, he was a sorcerer, not a chef. Dave would have that printed on a shirt just so that he could warn anyone in the future.

The water boiled up in a fountain, too much added and too fast. Pasta went everywhere, sticking to the cupboards in the kitchen. The hot water sprayed everywhere too. He yelped as the boiling water burned his face and neck. His hand shot out, trying to shut off the heat. As he did he knocked over the cheese and tomato sauce. That went flying up on him too, that also hot. Tank started to howl and ran for the living room. Dave briefly saw him dive under the couch. Little coward.

A door creaked open from somewhere in the hall and Becky walked in. She looked at him and he became aware that linguini was in his hair as well as all over the kitchen. Tomato sauce was at least on his face. He could feel the scallop in his neck. Swallowing he shifted a little to the left to try and at least make his stance look like there was nothing wrong.

Fate had it in for him though. His foot found some of the pasta sauce and his foot slipped. Dave's feet went everywhere and he felt like he was doing some sort of dance. He managed to catch himself, but he knew how ridiculous he looked. Dave swallowed again and smiled sheepishly at Becky.

For a moment she stared at him, a blank look on her face. Then her shoulders started to shake. Her hands covered her mouth and she bent double. Her laughter echoed in the room and Dave found himself smiling. Tank came out from under the couch slowly and perched himself down on the ground, looking at the two of them.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, "But Dave, oh Dave, I need a mirror or something because you look…you look like a kitchen nightmare."

She started laughing again and Dave was hit by inspiration. She thought it was funny did she? He grabbed some of the linguini the counter and threw it. It landed with a solid plop on her shoulder. Becky started. She looked at it and then looked up at him, surprised. Dave shrugged theatrically.

"You need a mirror or something," he said.

Something in her eyes she strode into the kitchen and grabbed a handful of the pasta. It was on. Tank retreated back under the couch as the two of them laughed and screamed. In the back of his mind he knew that this was perhaps the biggest mess he'd ever make in his life. He loved it accordingly.

When the linguini ran out it became a catch-me if you can. The floor was slippery and his bare feet squelched onto the water and sauce. Their clothes were ruined. He was glad that she was just wearing shorts and a large t-shirt. This way he hadn't ruined one of her silk dresses that she was so fond of. That would've been bad.

He caught up to her, grabbing her around the waist. She squirmed against him and they both fell on the floor. Dave didn't let go of her waist and she turned herself so that she was lying on top of his chest. Becky grinned and kissed him deeply. His hand, covered in sauce, cradled the back of her head and pulled her closer. Well, at least the linguini **had** cheered her up.


	20. Prompt 27: Love

_**A/N: **__Last one directly about the aftermath of Lacy's death. _

27. Love

Dave came with her. Of course he did, there had never been any question about it. When he had been there for her through the rest of it why shouldn't he be there for the funeral? He had been the one to call the cab and get all of the necessary arrangements made. He had even made breakfast that day.

There were no words spoken on the way. The cab driver had picked up on the mood and perhaps noticed that they were both in black and on the way to the cemetery. A bouquet of tulips were held in one of Becky's hands. They had been her grandmother's favorites, red and yellow and orange. She had described them as sunset colors once to Becky. Dave had been with her when they were purchased as well.

Becky had asked too much of him. She knew she had. It was worse in some ways because she hadn't actually asked. She had just gone to him, not knowing where else to turn. In return he had given her everything she could've asked for and more. It wasn't fair to him, but she had needed that comfort and emotional support desperately.

The need still existed and that was how she came to be holding his hand as they got out of the cab. They were both wearing black, since that was what you were supposed to wear. A small crowd had formed. Becky didn't recognize most of them. Bianca had warned her that there were going to be dignitaries from other branches there for political purposes though.

That was why she was wearing the Gryffin pendant. Bianca had given her the chain of office with it and told her that it would be best for her to wear it. That way all the dignitaries would know who she was. Becky would've preferred it if they didn't know who she was. Still, she had wanted to do things properly at her grandmother's funeral.

Balthazar and Veronica were already there. They made room for them so Becky was given a prominent place by the grave. No words were exchanged, just that simple acknowledgement of their right. That was one of the things that she valued so highly about them, the need for no words to pass.

Lacy's redwood coffin stood ready to be placed into the Steed family crypt. There hadn't been a viewing for the body. It was traditional but Lacy had specified that she didn't want that in her will for whatever reason. Bianca had mentioned that it might be because when Lacy had to identify her father's body she had a break down.

Perhaps she had had a vision and had seen that something would happen. It was hard to tell with seers, especially ones as talented as Lacy had been. For whatever reason she had done it Becky was glad for it. Seeing her grandmother's dead body was a little more than she was prepared for.

There was, however, going to be a reception afterwards. It was scheduled to be at the Chrysler building and had been taken care of by Bianca's people. All events that had a big impact on the New York Merlinians involved the Chrysler building somehow, or at least they had for around a century. After the non-magicals would leave there would be another eulogy, about the side of Lacy's life that had dominated her.

She looked around the crowd. It was a considerable size. It consisted, as she was aware, of both the magical and the non-magical. Some were staff or members of the charities that Lacy had been such a big part of. Among the faces that Becky did recognize she saw a few familiar ones. She recognized Michael, Bianca, Craig, the twins, and Jack.

Bianca was holding onto Dorothy's leash. Lacy's guide dog was whimpering softly. Becky was going to be taking the animal with her when she left. She was glad that her new apartment allowed pets, but she hadn't been able to go to the house that Bianca had informed her she'd inherited. Not yet.

Behind the twin were two individuals that she supposed were their parents. Some others were outworkers and apprentices that had come into the building every now and then. Way in the back she saw Ashley standing next to someone else she didn't recognize. From where she was she could see that the man's arm was around her shoulder.

Upon gaining her powers Becky had been surprised to learn how active that her grandmother had been in the magic community. When she was a little younger she had helped out at the base as well until her age and fragility restricted her to her house. Even after that she had kept up on all of the latest apprentices and sent them all a few courtesy visions.

Every single one of the current Merlinians, with the exception of Bianca, had grown up with Lacy looking out for them. Jack had even met his wife through her. Lacy's powers had allowed her to look younger than she was and she had enjoyed better health than any other woman her age. Her death had been a shock to all of them.

She felt Dave squeeze her hand. Becky looked at him and suddenly realized that her eyes had been tearing up. Closing her eyes she wiped them away. Dave wrapped his arm around her shoulder and held her close. Becky leaned in a little and breathed out. There he was, trying to make her feel better again.

The reverend that had been gathered for the occasion cleared his throat. Becky heard his words only partially. His words were what normally were said at funerals with a small difference. Either way it didn't matter. Before she knew it the coffin was being placed into the crypt. People began to break off and Bianca came up to her.

Dorothy whined in anticipation when she saw Becky. Becky knelt down and started to pet her.

"Good girl," she said, "Good girl."

"I thought you might want her now," said Bianca, "The reception should be starting soon."

Becky looked up and saw that Bianca's eyes were watery. Nodding she got up and took the leash from her.

"I think I'll stay here a little longer," she said, "Not much, just a few minutes."

Bianca swallowed and nodded.

"Whatever you think is best," she said.

Without another word Bianca went and joined the other Merlinians. Dave looked at her. Balthazar and Veronica stood uncertainly beside him.

"I'm going to go in," she said, "Just for a little bit."

"Do you need me to-?" started Dave.

"No," Becky said, thinking about how many other things she had asked him to do already, "Just take Dorothy for me. I'll be out soon. Balthazar, Veronica, you don't have to wait up for us."

Balthazar's eyes slid over to Dave who nodded.

"We'll see you there," Veronica assured her.

Becky handed Dave Dorothy's leash. She turned from them and started walking towards the crypt. The light nearly disappeared as she went in. Her eyes dimly made out names of relatives long gone. It was only when she got near the back that the names started to mean something to her.

John Malachi Steed, the great-grandfather that she had never met. He'd been a hero and a legend in his own time, to both the magical and non-magical communities. According to family legends he'd adopted her grandmother when he'd been visiting a volunteering friend. She'd just grabbed the corner of his coat in passing at a few weeks old.

She saw the name of the grandfather she couldn't remember, Robin Thomas Barnes. She'd seen him in Dave's Incantus, standing up to Horvath at the Chrysler building. It was made all the more impressive due to his pitiful magical skills. Only his will and bravery had allowed him to go on for as long as he had managed to. This same ingenuity allowed him to share the Primeship of New York with his wife after the sudden death of her father.

He had asked to be buried in the crypt in his will. Robin had known that his wife would be buried there one day which had been his main motivation. Despite the fact that he wasn't a Steed he was allowed to be there. Lacy hadn't wanted to be far from the one man that she had been in love with her entire life in death.

Becky's father was buried elsewhere. He wasn't a Steed and he had felt that a tombstone was better for him. She was glad about that as well for the many small mercies that had been done to her knowing or unknowingly that day. Seeing his tombstone too would make things even harder.

She breathed in as she saw Lacy's place.

"Hey grandma," she murmured.

Her hands clenched the bouquet tightly.

"You took care of me for so long," she said, "At your age you shouldn't have bothered. You were in your seventies and you shouldn't have had to deal with a child. But you loved me enough to do it."

With the back of her hand she wiped away her tears.

"I know you knew that I loved you," sobbed Becky, "I knew that you knew you were my role model, the kind of woman I wanted to grow up to be. I know you knew that."

Trembling she laid down the flowers on the ground.

"I know you knew that I was well taken care of," she said, "And I know that you trusted Dave with me. I keep wondering if you knew how things would work out."

Digging into her pocket she looked at three envelopes that Bianca had given her earlier in the week. Dates a few years in the future were printed on them.

"However it ends, you knew didn't you?" she asked the air, "Just like you gave Veronica and Balthazar. I think things are going to work out, because no one but him would do everything that he did for me. You taught me what love was so I know it when I see it."

She put the envelopes back inside of her pocket.

"So I guess I just came to say thank you," Becky said, "Thank….thank you… thank you…and…and…goodbye."

Wiping her eyes she turned and left the crypt. As she went outside the light that streamed down from the sky hit her and she blinked a little at the sudden flood of light. It was a cloudless day, perfectly blue and bright. Becky knew that it was the kind of sky that her grandmother would approve of.

Dave was waiting for her. He took her hand as she reached him, and the two of them walked out to the waiting cab


	21. Prompt 95: Origin

95. Origin

Balthazar woke up, not sure why. It wasn't due to anything being wrong. His nightmares, which had centered around those years in his life he had never been able to forget, had decreased significantly. The nightmares of being a failure had gone away when Dave had succeeded in Battery Park. Those centered around Veronica had gone away when he started to hold her in his arms each night.

So it wasn't anything to do with the sleep in general. Perhaps, and this was a new idea to him, it had just happened because it happened. There might not be any real meaning behind it and he had just woken up in the middle of the night. Humans did it all the time, humans with normal lives, and now that his life was normalish why shouldn't it happen to him?

He breathed in tiredly. If that was true then it was wasting his time. The next day promised to be busy. The Arcana Cabana was getting famous because of its owner and had become a popular destination for the magically inclined. It was doing a brisk business and he hated having to deal with customers. They only got in the way in a business.

Not to mention that Balthazar had, when he declared his official residence to be New York, ignited a small firestorm. He had, somewhere between searching for the Prime Merlinian and fighting Morganian sorcerers, become quite famous. Now that there was peace and he was living 'publicly' as Bianca had put it people actually **wanted to talk to him.**

The curiosity about origins had been insatiable. The Incantus told people the bare minimum, anything else was Merlinian hearsay. Merlinian historians had been forced to survive on scraps. With him there, someone who had actually lived it they had all gone a little nuts for information.

Veronica would've been under the same scrutinization, but many Merlinians were more tactful than to constantly pester a pregnant woman. She was busy sometimes too, but Balthazar more so. He was probably the more desirable target anyway, being Merlin's second apprentice as opposed to his third. He'd seen more.

Balthazar rolled over and closed his eyes. He was going to have to get some sleep sometime or another. In the past he had survived on a few hours at a time. Balthazar was no longer acclimatized to that lifestyle though. Because of Veronica's infinitely giving personality he had been allowed to get somewhere closer to eleven or ten hours each night. Considering the fact that he usually went to bed late he wondered at her patience with his odd habits.

Veronica shifted next to him in her sleep, sighing softly. He could feel the mattress sink lower with her movements. Not wanting to wake her or open his eyes he gently put his hand on her side. Almost instinctively his hand slid down lower until it rested on the slight swell of her stomach where their child grew.

He didn't open his eyes, just ran his hand across her stomach. It seemed like a lifetime since she had told him the news of their child. Veronica told him that she thought it might be a girl. He'd known better than to question that. She had, according to herself, correctly predicted Albin's gender from the way Catherine had carried herself during the pregnancy. Veronica was learned in the ways of midwifery, something he knew next to nothing about. It was better to simply trust her.

Stirring again he felt Veronica turn to face him. He froze but didn't open his eyes.

"I do that sometimes too," she confessed.

"Hmmm," he answered tiredly.

"Nothing wrong with it," said Veronica, placing her hand over his, "They say I'm near two months along. We can have a sonogram soon."

He smiled.

"They'll be a girl, just you wait and see," she said.

"Don't want to wait," answered Balthazar.

Veronica laughed and snuggled into his arms. He made room for her as she rested her head on his chest.

"Nor do I beloved," she said, "But it gives us some time to get things in order. When I think of all the things left to do…"

"Like?"

"The study has to be turned into a nursery," said Veronica, "It's the closest room closest to ours and the only one that doesn't serve a necessary function."

"Doesn't have much furniture in it either," he agreed, his eyes still closed, "Be easy to clear out."

"And then there's the color."

"Color?"

"For the walls," Veronica said, "I'm not having our child be in a plain room. Ours is painted blue. Pink is traditional but that seems a little bright for our baby. Perhaps something in a soft green or yellow with white trimming. Something a little more peaceful."

"You've certainly thought this out."

"I have to. You haven't."

He laughed then and pulled her a little closer. His fingers rested on the back of her neck and he sighed deeply.

"Anything else?"

"Anything else?" she mimicked, "There's a lot more to caring for babies. We shouldn't burry her in a mountain of clothes and toys but we do need some things."

"Maybe we should wait until we find out the gender."

"I already know the gender," she said firmly, "And I was thinking of just a few jumpers and coats and hats for when it gets cold. She'll be born at the beginning of the winter and have to bundle up very tight to stay warm. We should probably have a space heater in there too. Keep the temperature at a good constant level."

"Hmmm," he said, feeling negligent.

"A book of fairy tales for bedtime reading too," she said.

"I don't suppose you've thought of any names," he asked, stroking her hair, "No, of course you have. You've probably thought of everything."

"You flatter me," she said, "But no, I don't think of everything. I haven't gotten very far with names I'm afraid."

"Well, give me some suggestions."

"I thought about maybe Matilda or Yvainne," she said, "After our mothers. The names for first names seem…wrong somehow though."

"Supposed to be good luck to name them after relatives who have passed on."

"I know," she said, "But I have trouble thinking of my daughter as Yvainne as well as my mother. How do you feel about that?"

"You're right," Balthazar said, "If we start calling her Matty then I wouldn't be able to get the image of how disrespectful my mother would find that out of my head."

"So no Matilda or Yvainne," said Veronica, "I'm glad that's settled."

Breathing in again Balthazar tucked his head over Veronica's. It felt so good to talk about these things that he forgot about sleep.

"I keep wondering what she'll look like," Veronica whispered confidentially, "I think perhaps your eyes and my hair. It's just an image I've had since…"

Her voice became a little sheepish.

"…since I was nineteen actually."

"You had no business falling in love with me before I fell in love with you."

"Would you rather it have been the other way around?"

"I'd rather it have been at exactly the same time," he said, "Would've saved me a lot of uncertainty."

Balthazar ran his tongue over his teeth thoughtfully.

"Dark hair and blue eyes eh?" he mused, "Sounds a bit like Lorna Doone there."

"Who?"

"Character in a book," said Balthazar, yawning, "Written by some Scottish guy a long time ago."

He smiled.

"That was her description," he said, "Always imagined her looking a little like you actually."

There was a pause.

"Lovely name," Veronica said, moving a little closer to him, "What's it about?"

"To sum it up it's Romeo and Juliet," he said, "She's this blooming flower in a family of bandits and he's the son of a farmer who's been plagued by them, named John I think. Keep in mind I read this book a long time ago."

He cleared his throat.

"They meet in secret and fall in love," he explained, "Her family wants her to marry her evil cousin but she runs away with John to marry him. Then, and I forget how, they find out that she's not actually related to the bandits. She's actually the daughter of a noble Scottish house who was kidnapped a long time ago. The bandits had planned to have her marry one of them so they'd get her money."

"Oh."

"So now there's this huge class discrepancy between the two," he said, "Everything looks impossible. To make matters worse there's also this war going on in the background. They both get married and live happily ever after though. It's about love triumphing against insurmountable odds."

Veronica was silent. He moved his hands to brush against her face and felt that there were some slight wetness there.

"Veronica?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said quietly, her lips leaving an outline of the words against his chest, "Nothing at all."

He felt more tears fall on his chest but said nothing, just brushing them away occasionally with his fingertips.

"Lorna's a beautiful name," she said.

"I suppose it is."

There was a thoughtful pause.

"Would you mind if we named our daughter that?"

Balthazar had expected this and thought about it a bit.

"There are worse things we could name her," he said, "Let's see how it goes, if she looks like a Lorna when she's born."

The bed shifted as Veronica sat up. She leaned down and kissed him gently on the lips.

"She will. She will."


	22. Prompt 87: Painting

_**A/N: **__There'll be no new chapters on Christmas. I'll resume afterwards and post an extra one, but just not then. It would be too hectic. Thanks to everyone for the continued reviews. You all inspire me to keep writing. Happy Holidays everyone!_

87. Painting

"Is this your new hobby?"

"Yeah, sort of. I'm taking an art class for fun. Not a college one, just a free one that they're offering at the community center," Becky said, dabbing another bit of paint onto the canvas she had brought to occupy her time while Dave trained, "I'm painting that vase on the table over there. I'm not very good at it though. Just look at this."

She held up her canvas for his inspection. Dave was guiltily inclined to agree about her assessment. He had wondered when he'd first seen it, back when he had first entered the lab, if she was into impressionism. Apparently she wasn't and he tried to be quiet about his initial mistake. He was honest to a fault, but only when asked directly. That was how he'd managed to survive to reach maturity.

Balthazar, who was a good deal blunter and very definitely not dating Becky, bad mental image there, nodded.

"You can say that again."

Becky rolled her eyes and put some paint thinner into her red. Dave glared at Balthazar. It was always something.

"The truth can hurt," Balthazar said, "It's better that she embraces it now."

"No need to harp on it," Becky answered, rolling her eyes again.

"Now," Balthazar said, turning away from Becky, "How's it going with the illusions and light manipulation?"

Still irritated by Balthazar's words Dave pointed to a light switch. The light flickered on and off according to how he moved his finger. Balthazar watched and nodded slightly at each flicker of the light.

"Good, but elementary," he said, "We'll have to shore that up. Light manipulation can be very practical. Now for illusions-"

"Can't hear you," Dave said, "Up here."

Balthazar looked up to see Dave standing on the staircase. The illusion that had been standing in front of him vanished.

"Looks like you figured out how to teleport as well," Balthazar said, "Explains why your light manipulation is like that."

Dave grinned.

"But it doesn't excuse it. Get back down here."

Sighing Dave trudged down the steps. Becky shook her head at him and smiled as he came downstairs.

"Can't we just do swords or something?" asked Dave.

Ever since the start of her pregnancy Veronica had handed sword training over to Balthazar. Dave had argued that physiologically the chances of a miscarriage being caused by activities already engaged in before the pregnancy were slim. Veronica, who had grown up when taking walks around a room were thought to cause miscarriages, disagreed and that had been the end of that.

"Not until we finish the light," said Balthazar, "Now, what are the visible colors of the light spectrum?"

"Violet, blue, cyan, green, yellow, orange, and red," Dave answered, rolling his eyes, "I've been doing this since I was in middle school."

"Not magically unless there's something you want to tell me about," Balthazar said drily, "Now, this is a new area of magic so step into the Merlinian circle."

"Do I have to?" asked Dave, "Tabitha and Julian have to do that stuff."

"Safety first."

Grudgingly Dave obeyed.

"Alright," said Balthazar, "Now see the colors, pick one out and flood the area with it. Show me…I'm feeling creative today…cyan."

"You can't just show-"

"Master," Balthazar said, pointing to himself before pointing at Dave, "Apprentice. Now get to work or the plasma will fly."

Closing his eyes Dave tried to clear his mind. He could see the small tendrils of light and picked out cyan. Making it flood the area was a good deal more difficult. Then he tried to imagine that he was putting paint thinner into it like Becky had with her paints. The color expanded and he drew it out.

When he opened his eyes the room was a dim turquoise color. Cyan.

"Good," Balthazar said, "Now; violet."

Dave used the same technique.

"Yellow."

That was hard since yellow was such a light color but he was still able to do it. It just took a little too much time.

"Green."

That was the easiest so far.

"Red."

The same thing went on as they'd made their way through the spectrum. Dave felt exhausted and sat down on the stone floor. He had long since given up trying to stand up during all of their training sessions. That generally left him feeling too exhausted to walk home, leaving him with barely enough strength to board a train.

"You guys keep changing the light on me," Becky complained, "Do you know how hard that makes it to paint."

"That's sort of the lesson today, changing the light," said Balthazar, "And you can leave if you want to. No offense, but if you think your presence will make me release Dave earlier, not a chance."

She glared at him.

"Oh watch me," she said.

An awful feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. He started to think that perhaps Becky was going to fling some of her paints at his master. From the way she was looking at him it was possible. Dave really didn't want to see what would happen then. Balthazar wasn't exactly the type to take a tube of red paint to the face very well.

"Balthazar, you're being pretty rude."

His master pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You're right, you're right. Sorry about that. I've just had a really stressful week," he said.

"Oh you've had a stressful week?" asked Dave, "Finals are coming up for me. For the first time I might actually fail a class."

He was rather worried about that. One of his continuous scholarships depended on that nothappening. Without that then he would have a hard time affording college. A job was in order soon, he just couldn't see how it fit in. After another few months to acclimatize to magic he might be able to handle it, just not now. Not to mention that after the year was over his mother was coming over. He couldn't imagine disappointing her.

"Yeah, well your identity is a secret," Balthazar snapped, "In a few years you'll be a public historical figure, you are now but you're lucky enough that they can't find you, and then what then?"

"Ummmm….having some problems with those guys from Maine?" asked Dave, remembering a conversation with Bianca earlier in the week.

"And Texas, and California, and England, and Portugal."

"Portugal?"

"Yeah, Portugal has Merlinians too Dave," snorted Balthazar derisively, "I've had itup to here. If I run into one more historian and they ask me something like the color of Merlin's favorite pair of slippers **one more time** I swear I'm going to take his Incantus and shove it where the sun doesn't shine."

Dave was silent. It was exactly the sort of thing he could imagine his master doing if he was stressed. It was actually rather tame to be honest. Removing his hand from his nose Balthazar made a vague motion in Becky's direction. His ring glowed and the air around her shimmered briefly.

"There, you should be blocked out from the light experiments," he said, "Now Dave, continue."

"With what?" asked Dave, getting to his feet.

"Well, you can manipulate the light spectrum," he said, "Try to focus it and make something."

"Make something?"

"Like a picture. Use your imagination."

Cracking his neck once Dave saw the tendrils of the spectrum again. He reached out for a few of them and started swirling them around in his mind.

"Dave, you've made a giant swirly shape. I'm sure you're proud."

"Hey!" Dave said, keeping his eyes closed, "I'm just trying to figure out the color wheel…and…got it."

He picked an image and then set to work. Dave let his hands move out, making things easier. It felt like he was conducting only no conductor would move his hands like this. He was painting with light now, as bizarre as that sounded in his mind. Finished he opened his eyes and stumbled backwards.

"Now that's pretty good," said Balthazar, "Not the next Da Vinci but at least a B+, maybe an A-."

"You are such show-off," Becky said.

Painted in light was the vase that Becky was trying to capture. Dave had left out several details but he was still left with a rather accurate depiction of the vase. Balthazar was right too, it was rather quality work. Apparently being the Prime Merlinian also meant that you were a pretty good artist too.

"Maybe just a little," he said, smiling sheepishly.


	23. Prompt 15: Meat

15. Meat

"I don't understand why people don't like meat," Becky said, dipping her paintbrush into the bucket of paint.

"Come again?" asked Ashley.

The two of them were in the Alchemy room in the Chrysler building. It had been boarded up sometime during the 1950's, but Bianca had recently made the decision to reopen it. The twins were being trained and, as their healing talents required special training at a higher level, it was needed.

Michael and Jack had drawn the lot to do the initial cleaning detail. They had been there the day before dutifully sweeping and scrubbing. From the state of the room Becky could tell that the two of them had done a good job. Michael might've been a college kid with a college kid's perspective on cleanliness, but Jack was a teacher **and** a Dad. It was quite the lethal combination.

Craig and Ashley had been sentenced to the refurbishment of the needed room. Becky had been in the building that day to return a book from their magic library for Dave. He had been so busy lately that she had decided to help him out a little, which hadn't actually had such great results so far. That was why she was currently helping to make the characters for protections against explosions a little more prominent.

However, there were other things on her mind which had prompted the question that she asked Ashley.

"It's protein," she said, delicately filling in a swirl, "People need protein to survive don't they?"

"You can get it in places other than from meat," Craig said, "Like tofu or supplements or, if you're not vegan, milk."

"I don't know what brought this on," Ashley said uncertainly.

"Then again," babbled Craig as he moved a table into a corner, "Most people do it because they don't like eating other things in order to survive-"

"Animals eat other animals," said Becky, "That's how it is out of these little controlled environments that the zoos set up. It's ridiculous to say otherwise. You're just making things complicated for everyone around you."

Ashley shared a look with Craig.

"So," she asked, "What is this about?"

Becky finished with her symbol and put the paintbrush back into the paint can. She pushed the hair out of her eyes before muttering;

"Dave's mother is coming over," she said, "She's a vegetarian."

A small choking sound came from Ashley.

"You think I'm overreacting."

"Um…no, no, not at all," Ashley said with a small cough, "It's just there's…someone else I know…whatever. Continue."

"Dave's been so stressed with his classes lately," said Becky, shrugging off Ashley's odd behavior, "He's not used to having to balance a fully loaded schedule. For most of his life he hasn't been, as his roommate Bennet puts it, 'participating'."

She sighed.

"Did he join some clubs or something?" asked Craig, perhaps a little too interested in the woes of the Prime Merlinian.

"Well being an apprentice probably counts as a club and a sport," said Ashley with a touch of sarcasm, "Not to mention a job at times. I mean, my actual sports are periods in my schedule because I go to a private school. Even then I don't have much free time."

"Exactly," Becky said, before adding with some hesitation, "Not to mention he's got a girlfriend now."

"That's not that time consuming," Craig laughed.

Both of the girls shot him a withering look. He rolled his eyes theatrically as he sank to his knees and started to rummage in a tool box.

"Just a joke."

"Relationships are time consuming?" asked Ashley.

"Generally yes."

"I've just had a few high school flings," Ashley said thoughtfully, "They lasted two months and then 'poof'! I'm being cheated on or the guy's trying to get too close for comfort."

"That's pretty generalized," frowned Becky.

"Sums both of 'em up."

Craig started to look embarrassed to be involved in the conversation.

"So what's this have to do with Dave's mom not eating meat?" he asked.

"He wants to take her out to dinner to meet me since our apartments aren't really good for anything that even smacks of formal," said Becky, "So he needed to find a good neutral restaurant. I figured he didn't need the extra stress, so I volunteered to do it for him."

There was silence in the room.

"In hindsight not such a hot idea," sighed Becky, "I wanted to help him out and at the same time I wanted to make a good impression on his mother. I just can't seem to find a decent vegetarian restaurant that isn't sushi related."

"Why can't it be sushi-related?" Craig asked as he got down on the floor with a screw driver to adjust the table's legs.

"She doesn't like sushi."

"Ah."

"I just don't know of a good non-meat restaurant. It has to be completely meatless since apparently even the smell of meat makes her sick. I mean, New York has foods of all kinds but that's pretty specific and hard to fi-" started Becky.

"I can name four."

Craig and Becky turned to Ashley.

"They're pretty affordable," said Ashley uncomfortably.

"How do you know of four?" asked Craig incredulously.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Hey, I was there for that big fancy formal dinner with the delegates from Manchuria," he snorted, "You demolished that steak like a grade A wrecking crew. And don't even get me started on your second one-"

"I have a vegetarian…friend," snapped Ashley, "So shut it, okay?"

Shrugging again Craig got up and stretched.

"Now for the crucibles and Bunsen burners," he said, "Gonna have to go into the storage closet for those. Hope you're both happy that **I'm** doing it."

"Quite," Ashley said.

Throwing his arms into the air Craig strode out of the room. Once he was gone Becky heard Ashley clear her throat nervously.

"Hey, um, Becky," said Ashley, "You…you've got a pretty serious relationship with Dave right?"

Turning around Becky raised her eyebrows.

"To be meeting his mom and everything," she added, still sounding nervous and all of her eighteen years.

"Yes…"

"I just," said Ashley, squirming, "I have a theoretical question to ask about relationships. For a friend of mine."

Oh no. Not the theoretical question. Becky had hoped to go through her whole life without a question like this. Not to mention it was coming from a younger girl who Becky came into almost daily contact with. Ashley was only a little younger than her in years but Becky suspected that she had led a relatively sheltered life. For four years in high school two boyfriends wasn't much. Then again, when she had grown up being trained by someone like Bianca, Becky supposed that she didn't take much nonsense from anyone.

"You see," Ashley said, "There's this guy she really likes. Like, really."

"Cute?" asked Becky.

"I'd use the term hot," said Ashley, "But yeah."

She smiled. Becky felt relieved. This was off to a promising start.

"It's just…he's kind of an asshole."

Now things went downhill.

"It's just," Ashley said, "He can be really nice sometimes and this great guy. I've seen it. But he's got this whole 'break-your-heart-soon-as-look-at-it' thing going on. And the thing is…my friend doesn't want to be the girl who fell for that kind of guy and ended up getting used. And I don't know what to tell her…"

Becky started on another faded character as she tried to collect her thoughts. She was only twenty-one. Far too young to be playing older sister to someone.

"Ashley," Becky tried to say kindly and gently, "I've gone for the bad boy thing in the past. From going through that and from what I've heard from my friends; it doesn't end well. I've never been in a relationship serious enough to get hurt badly but…if your friend really cares about this guy then there is not going to be a happy ending to this."

"But-"

"There are very rarely exceptions to this, no matter what the storybooks say. Diamonds in the rough in real life…they're a lot rarer than the name implies. And that's saying something," said Becky, "So, to be perfectly honest, I would tell her not to risk it."

She hoped that she had done that right. However, Ashley was looking a little crestfallen. Swallowing hard Becky asked;

"Something wrong?"

Under normal circumstances this was where the hypothetical façade fell away. Instead Ashley shook her head and stared at the wall.

"Nothing. Just thinking about how to let her down gently."

The silence that followed was awkward. Luckily Craig came back into the room carrying the equipment. As Ashley came up to help him she turned back and smiled shakily at Becky.

"I'll tell you about those meatless restaurants later," she said, "Best of luck with Dave's mom."

"Yeah," Becky said, looking at the girl uncertainly, "I hope so too."


	24. Prompt 62: Zombie

62. Zombie

"I can't believe that I'm actually doing this," Dave sighed.

He really couldn't believe that he was actually doing this. It was a week night for cryin' out loud and here he was. This little 'outing' hadn't meant that he had gotten to skip practice though. No, it was class **and **monster fighting, no time to rest, chop chop and make it snappy. Story of his life really.

"If you say that one more time," Balthazar said, "Then I'll use the twelve gauge on you. Do you understand?"

"Only if I let you have it," said Dave as he hefted the shotgun.

"Oh, I have ways," snorted Balthazar darkly, "I have ways."

"I don't doubt it."

"So you get the idea then.

"Yeah yeah. I get the idea," mumbled Dave, "I just don't understand why we're trudging through the sewers at midnight, ruining my converse-"

"I did tell you to wear boots. You wouldn't listen."

"-with a twelve gauge in the first place."

As if to emphasize his point his foot squelched in something unpleasant. By this point Dave didn't even use the light that Balthazar had conjured up to see what it was. No matter what it turned out to be it was promising to be unpleasant. It would only be amplified if he saw what it was.

"You never stop whining. You're like a machine that just keeps going," Balthazar said, brightening his light a bit to make it easier for them to see, "And we talked about why we need the shotgun. And we said that you needed it because I already had experience with guns and what's your apprenticeship all about?"

"Experience."

"That's right. Got everything intact?" asked Balthazar.

"Yes. I did pay attention when you gave me the crash course in gun safety."

"The safety switch** is** off right?"

"It's off," said Dave, "I just feel like I'm in a Romero movie. Only in his movie the characters aren't stupid enough to actually go **looking** for zombies."

"The characters in his movies don't have magical powers. And call them the reanimated before I have to hit you"

"If my mother could see me now-"

"Well she can't and neither can mine," snapped Balthazar, "Both of them would be undeniably embarrassing events for very complicated reasons."

"My mother and guns don't mix."

"I'd hope not," said Balthazar, "But as for us going after the dangerous creature, I'd have hoped that by this point you'd have realized that that's the sorcerer's job."

"I know-"

"No you don't. If you did you'd have shut up about it by now," said Balthazar, "We go down and do this so some hapless individual doesn't get eaten alive by one of Mordred's leftovers. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

There was an unpleasant smile.

"Good. I hope you mean it this time," said Balthazar, "And now you have to tell me why we need the shotgun."

"Balthazar-"

"Less complaining, more explaining."

Dave rubbed his temples, shifting the twelve gauge for a minute.

"A good headshot is actually a good way to kill a zombie- I mean Reanimated," said Dave, "The best way is if fire is somehow involved. A shotgun combines both of these with a small controlled explosion and a powerful impact."

"Why don't we just use magic?"

"Reanimated life forms feed from some forms of magic and using certain spells, particular to certain Reanimated," recited Dave, "can actually make them stronger. Don't use magic unless there's an emergency going on."

"Not bad. You read the chapter."

"I read it as soon as I found out that Mordred was a zombie sorcerer," Dave retorted, "I figured that I might as well be prepared."

"I told you to stop using the 'z' word."

"Why is that?" asked Dave.

"It's stupid."

"No other explanation. Just 'it's stupid'," snorted Dave, "I mean, there are worse words to use in the world. You're like an old lady sometimes with your shoes and your particulars on word usage. Next thing I know you're going to start saying 'drat' and 'tarnation' and 'gosh-dang'-"

"I never have," growled Balthazar, "and never will talk like Yosemite Sam. I want you to get that perfectly clear right now."

"Yes sir."

"I miss the days when you were afraid of me."

"I don't."

"Obviously. How's school going by the way?"

"Fine," said Dave sarcastically, "It's just making me go gray before my time. Other than that it's just peachy."

"Yes, I suppose it is weird for a genius to find himself at a loss during exam week," surmised Balthazar.

That was true enough, although Dave was too modest to refer to himself as a genius. Dave had let too many homework assignments go, had arrived late to too many classes. He had struggled during his finals in every subject except Physics. Some had been much more difficult than others, but there had been difficulty in all of them.

His stress level had been extreme. One day he had gone to Becky's apartment, sat down on the couch, and not been physically able to get up. She had sat beside him and allowed him to lay his head in her lap. Becky had stroked his hair and listened sympathetically. She had also volunteered to do some of his smaller errands for him. Not a day went by that he didn't wonder how he had managed to get such a wonderful girl for his girlfriend.

However, that had been two days ago. Dave had finished his last final that afternoon and had been looking forward to passing out in a heap in his room. Then, out of the blue, Balthazar had called him up and said that one of Mordred's zombies had been spotted in the sewer. In the words of _Zombieland _it was time to 'nut up or shut up'. Dave knew that he had problems with both parts of that saying.

As he pondered all of these things Balthazar suddenly grabbed onto the back of Dave's hoodie. He was jerked backwards around a corner so fast that his head spun. His head really did spin when it clipped the concrete wall of the tunnel. That was going to bruise; there was no doubt about that.

"What do you think you're-?"

"Shhhhhhhh!"

Balthazar peered around the tunnel cautiously.

"We've got a visual."

Dave looked at where Balthazar was looking. A decaying corpse was shuffling around, emitting an odd keening noise. There weren't any bones around it, so that was a good sign by all accounts. However, it was still there. Not to mention the smell it was emitting was, by all accounts, rather terrible.

"Take careful aim," said Balthazar.

He did so, feeling just a little ridiculous.

"Come on, steady now, steady," said Balthazar, "Be careful and you can get it in one shot."

When he finally did take the shot it hit the zombie in the shoulder. The stench of rotting meat intensified, flooding the air and bits of flesh sprayed. Dave felt physically sick and he could only thank his lucky stars that he wasn't close enough to the zombie for any of that to get on him. The zombie turned and started to shuffle towards them.

"Glad you listened to my advice," grumbled Balthazar.

"I'll get it next time," Dave snapped.

This shot was in the neck. The zombie was getting closer now.

"You were saying?"

"I was saying that this zombie movie sucks!" snarled Dave.

The next shot hit the zombie in the middle of the forehead. It toppled to the ground, splashing in the much and landing only a few inches from Dave's toes.

"Sick," Dave said, covering his mouth.

Balthazar inspected the zombie coolly. He shrugged and smiled.

"For someone who never fired a gun before today you were pretty good," said Balthazar, "Three shots isn't bad for a first try."

"Was that the lesson for today?" asked Dave, still feeling nauseous.

"No, no it wasn't," Balthazar said, "The lesson was that sometimes you have to know how to improvise and work under considerable stress. Was I aware that your finals ended today? Yes."

He smiled as Dave gaped at him.

"But you're going to need to learn how to work through stress, any stress, and keep your cool," finished Balthazar, patting him on the shoulder, "Not bad for today. We need to work on your battle cries, but not that bad."

Dave leaned against the wall and moaned, his mouth still covered. This was typical of his life, just typical.

"One thing that I am concerned about."

"And that is?" asked Dave.

Balthazar turned to him and gave him a grim smile.

"You said the 'z' word again."


	25. Prompt 78: Betrayal

78. Betrayal

Levitation. It had been one of the first spells that Drake had mastered. It was simple and surprisingly useful. Not to mention that it was impressive. His master had been trying to impress him then and it had worked. During his first stage appearance Drake had used it to wonderful results.

He found himself doing it casually when he wasn't paying attention. For instance, he had just looked up to find the remote control, two books, and a vase hovering around him. Drake hadn't been staring off into space or anything. He'd been making notes and putting several pictures on his corkboard.

The corkboard was his own invention, or at least his own idea. He'd actually first seen it on a cop show. Bianca had told him to keep a secret notebook of everything he saw. It was only later that he'd started copying pictures and putting them on a corkboard. People were connected by color-coded strings of yarn, along with notes under them. There were a few maps there as well, just to clear everything up.

"Down," he muttered, waving his hand at the objects.

They went down immediately, but gently. Ashley would be pissed if he broke that vase, however ugly it was. It was Ming dynasty, although she thought it was Heian. Not only was that the wrong time period, it was the wrong country. He had some knowledge of these things after buying so many useless antiques just because they were expensive. Drake had to lament the stupidity of dealers these days.

Sighing he pinned up the last picture and headed to the living room. He was starting to wish that he had a normal job, one that didn't involve the threat of getting killed on a daily business. He was trying not to let it show but the stress was also driving him just a little bit crazy. Just a little bit.

Tiredly he flopped down onto the living room sofa. He wished he could get away with it, pull a dangerous stunt and then report back. It would be very climactic and he'd be sure to make it as 007-ish as possible. Bianca had told him that there was no reason to blow his cover just yet. If something important came up then he would blow it and run with as much information as possible.

From what he heard the plan after that was for him to officially enter the New York Merlinian circle. He wasn't on the books yet, so he had to just pray that if any foreign Merlinian tried to take him on he'd be able to deal with them. Still, the day when he would be officially accepted into team goodie looked like it would be far off indeed.

Not to mention that those who knew about him didn't exactly like him. Jack looked at him with out and out distaste whenever he came into the building. Bianca trusted him as far as she could throw him, which he supposed wasn't that far. She gave him important missions but disliked the idea of him getting too near to her precious New York sorcerers. He hadn't forgotten the look she'd given him when she'd introduced him to Ashley.

Craig hadn't liked him either, and not just because he'd sucker-punched him. There had always been a level of distrust and disdain. He had dealt with that as though it didn't matter. It was a survival tactic, something he'd learned when he was very young. Drake didn't even want to ponder what Balthazar and the Boy Wonder would do if they found out he was still alive. He imagined that it wouldn't be pleasant.

That was probably why he liked rooming with Ashley so much. She had been nervous around him, true enough. Now things were different. She left the spare keys to the car on the table sometimes. Ashley didn't know that he couldn't drive, but she didn't know that. So it still felt like it was a gesture of trust.

She…he wasn't sure how to put this…**relaxed **around him. Ashley didn't automatically set up defenses when he came into the room like he was about to go postal. Like he was someone she'd known for a while who just happened to be rooming with her. She would talk to him like he wasn't a former Morganian, a friend.

Ashley even unloaded about what was happening at school sometimes, events in her life. When she'd gotten into her choice college, NYU of course, she'd gone screaming about it to him. They'd ordered take-out that night and she'd talked excitedly about moving into dorms etc, etc, etc.

This was probably why he had become attached to her. Not just attached to her…fond of her in a way. The word fond made him squirm a little because it wasn't accurate. He was sure that she thought of him as a friend. An asshole friend, but a friend nonetheless. Slowly he had been working on changing that perception of him. Her birthday was only in a few months and then he'd feel completely comfortable with the relationship. It surprised him that he cared about something like that, but he had some decency left.

The door started to unlock and he sat up a little straighter. Realizing how weird it would look if he was just sitting on the couch looking stiffly nonchalant he summoned the remote control. He switched the T.V on just as Ashley walked into the door and slung her backpack down on the ground.

"How'd the Alchemy room go today luv?" he asked casually.

Ashley shrugged as she locked the door behind her.

"Not bad. Becky helped out today so it went faster than we expected," she said, "No homework so it wasn't like there was a rush to get home."

"I'm here ain't I?" he said, winking.

She opened her mouth as though to snark back like she usually did, but she stopped. He frowned a little, unsure of this new development. Then again, it had been a long day for her, so it probably wasn't anything important. Drake had just decided on this when Ashley noticed what he was watching.

"Didn't know you were into _Dora the Explorer_," she said, raising her eyebrows.

He felt the heat flooding to his face. Quickly he flipped the channel.

"Just channel surfin'."

"Uh-huh," said Ashley, sitting down next to him on the couch.

Drake was suddenly very aware of three things. The first thing was that she was actually sitting fairly close to him. The second was that his arms had gone across the back of the couch, and Ashley was sitting within him. Thirdly her shirt was sleeveless and his fingertips were centimeters away from her bare skin.

Alright, that was two things. However, his thinking was a little muddled at the moment. He gulped as inconspicuously as he could.

"I bet you need Dora to help explain the letters of the alphabet," she said.

"Oi!" Drake said indignantly, "That's taking it a little too far don't you think darlin'?"

"No I don't."

"You are so paying for that," he said, removing one of his arms and tugging her red hair.

"Hey, hands off the hair," she said, punching him in the chest.

"Nope," he said, wrapping his fingers around more strands and pulling it tighter.

Ashley shoved him again, this time harder. He went backwards but held onto her hair. She was pulled down with him and she yelped a little. Drake had time to take a breath in before she landed on his chest and the air was forced out of his lungs. He groaned loudly and let go of her hair.

"You weigh a lot more than you look," he said.

"Yeah? Well you…you…" started Ashley.

Drake supposed that it was about then that she noticed the position that they were in. He noticed it when she went silent. He swallowed again before letting go of her hair and having it instead twine with her hair. He let his other hand rest on her shoulder. Electric sparks went through his hand, not caused at all by the magical powers they both shared.

Her breath quickened, he could feel that because of their proximity. She breathed out and leaned downwards. Drake was seized by the feeling that he shouldn't be doing this. She was still seventeen, she was still Bianca's apprentice, there were a dozen other reasons, but his face was already tilting upwards. He didn't really have any say in this and he'd find the time to care about all of those reasons later. One little kiss couldn't hurt…

Seconds from contact Ashley suddenly pulled away and sat up. He noticed that she was shaking and biting her lip. Feeling embarrassed and awkward he sat up as well. She turned back to him like she was trying to decide something. When she got up he did so well. He cleared his throat, feeling the need to explain things.

"Luv-" he started.

"Don't call me that, don't you ever call me that again!" she said, her fist clenching though her back was still turned to him.

He shifted on his feet. Perhaps thinking that he was moving towards her she snapped;

"And don't you touch me!"

She turned around, her eyes narrowed.

.

.

.

Ashley was starting to wonder if she'd done the right thing. Becky's advice had been good, she was certain of that. She had resolved to follow it by the time she got home. Then she had started teasing him and then fallen…and she'd let him all but **hold **her. Yeah, she was good at this whole resolution thing.

Now that she had taken control of the situation she felt wrong. She shouldn't have turned around. She should've stormed off and just left him there. Yet, she had turned. Ashley had expected him to be smirking or rolling his eyes. She would've been able to corroborate that with what Becky had told her if he head.

Instead he was looking at her with a hurt expression in his eyes. The hurt crystalized into betrayal which stayed there resolutely.

"I wasn't going to," he said, his voice icy, "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

He laughed bitterly.

"I'd ask you to trust me when I say that, but it's obvious you don't," he said coldly, "So I won't bother."

Without another word he stalked past her, his hands shoved in his pockets. She stood, frozen, as his footsteps echoed down the hallway. After a while she heard a door slam down the hallway, she supposed to his room. Ashley wrapped her arms around herself and she felt a few tears prick her eyes.


	26. Prompt 13: Potato

13. Potato

Joanne Stutler had worried about her son since the day he was born. Strike that, from the minute, the very second that he was born. The cause for concern had changed, of course, but she had still worried. There had been no father for young David and not a lot of money either. She'd struggled being a single-mom working in shifts. She'd had to leave him in day-care a good deal, but she'd always tried to make time for him.

He had grown up to be shy, quiet, and thoughtful. Oh, and smart. Couldn't forget smart. It was what the teachers always told her, what her relatives remarked on. Joanne had always hoped that perhaps that was going to be his thing. He was going to find balance in his life, respect perhaps too, as the smart kid.

Then there had been the Arcana Cabana incident. Joanne didn't think her son was crazy. She didn't think he was making up the story for attention either. So when the doctors told her it was a glucose imbalance she latched onto it. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him. It was just a freak chemical reaction.

Whenever she'd talked to principals, teachers, or scholarship people they would always bring it up. Joanne would tilt her head a little higher and assure them that no, nothing was wrong with Dave. It was just a glucose imbalance. They had accepted that and she could see it in their minds; lots of geniuses had little incidents that happened to them. It was perfectly normal that Dave should have that as well.

He had always been alone though and Joanne felt partly to blame for that. They had moved during the summer after the incident. He'd been talking in his sleep and one of the doctors had recommended a change in location. She'd agonized about taking him away from an unfamiliar place, but she couldn't just leave him like that.

Throughout all of her life she'd hid that worry. She always had a smile or little quip for her son, something to make him smile. Her quick wit had gotten her out of sticky situations before, and this was certainly the stickiest situation of her life. Joanne couldn't have him ever seeing her worry, not even when it increased over the years.

That was why, when he first started mentioning new names over the telephone she had gotten excited. Her heart had always held onto the hope that college would open social doors for him. Joanne had been secretly disappointed when he fell back into his old routine upon starting school. However, she had never told him that. Dave didn't need to be told that he was doing something wrong. He had enough on his plate.

Becky was technically an old name though. Joanne wondered what the odds were on finding a childhood sweetheart. She figured that they were pretty small. Having that childhood sweetheart liking you back was probably even more impossible. From what Dave was telling her things were pretty serious. It made her feel good to hear that.

Other names made her happy as well; the Blakes for one. They were a married couple, some of his professors from what she understood. Then there were names of a few people closer to his age; Ashley, Michael, Craig, that sort of thing. Whenever a new name came up she nearly started to cry.

Joanne had never held too much stock in her mothering skills. She tried to be involved but not overprotective. Early on she had realized that she couldn't make up for the father who was never going to be there. She could just do her best and hope that it was good enough. It probably wasn't, but she had to keep trying.

His grades were slipping. Joanne had actually been called by the Dean on one occasion. Dave's GPA was in danger and she couldn't afford his college without that scholarship. She had tentatively mentioned it to her son who explained that he'd forgotten about a test. Something else had come up with his friends; what she wasn't exactly sure. His story was muddled and convoluted.

Finally she had out and out asked him if he'd been out drinking. What else was she supposed to think from the way he was talking? When it came out that he hadn't she had just told him to try harder next time and keep track of things. No, she wasn't angry. She was sure that he would pull out of this. Then she had sighed and hung up.

Part of her had known that he would turn things around. He did. She'd never doubted it. That was one of the only things that she could offer; faith. It was Joanne's strongest point and greatest weakness. She'd had faith for a very long time in many things. Few things she'd had faith in hadn't let her down. At one point she'd had faith that Dave's father would come back. That had been wrong in the end.

Dave had never let her down though. She'd had faith that he wasn't crazy, although she didn't quite buy glucose imbalance. Still, she'd been right. Joanne had had faith that he would make it. He did. Having faith in him raising his GPA was a small thing compared to everything else.

He picked her up at the airport during the second week of summer vacation. She said picked up, but she'd been the one who ordered the rent-a-car. It had been so long since she'd been in New York though that she let him do the driving. She had rented a room in a hotel, not wanting to be a burden on her son.

He'd talked excitedly to her of his physics experiments, none of which she understood.  
She'd majored in economics after all. He also spoke quite a bit about Becky. Oh yes, he always had very complimentary remarks to make about her. Joanne was even going to meet her, which made her very excited indeed.

"Have you met her mother?" she asked Dave on the car ride over.

A muscle in Dave's jaw spasmed.

"We uh…we didn't get on."

"Oh," she said, feeling awkward, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay," shrugged Dave, "Apparently Becky and her mother don't get on either. You see…her father died when she was little and her mother….um…yeah. She was raised by her grandmother."

He looked at her, a little sad.

"Her grandmother died a few months ago."

"I see," Joanne replied, "I…I'll be sure not to mention that then. Thanks for the warning. Any other topics I shouldn't mention?"

"Um…she's a pre-law major and hates it."

"I'm glad she hates it," said Joanne jokingly, "I can't stand lawyers."

Dave grinned a little as they pulled up outside a restaurant. They both got out of the car and Joanne wondered if this was a good idea. She had been on a plane and hadn't had any time to…anything really. She didn't care much about appearances but she always got like this when she was nervous.

They went in. Becky was already waiting for them, looking like she'd stepped out of a catalogue. Joanne shook hands with her and smiled, her automatic good manners kicking in. Oh yes, another one of her strong points. She had faith and good manners. Very good for social situations.

Picking up a menu she looked at what was offered. There was no meat which she was relieved at.

"A friend recommended this place," Becky said, not looking up from her own menu, "She has a friend who's a vegetarian or vegan or something like that. She says the baked potato's great."

Her eyes fell on the choice of a baked potato, no bacon. She liked this girl.

"I'll try that then," she said, "But I'm holding you personally responsible if it tastes terrible."

Becky blinked for a minute and then looked at Dave who was sitting across from her. He was laughing quietly and she hoped that there was some sort of silent communication going on there. Joanne wondered if this girl was just as nervous as she was. In that context her words were a little…harsh if they hadn't been a joke. Joanne was being ridiculous. Of course Becky was nervous about this. You only 'met the parents' once.

"Just joking," said Joanne.

She looked relieved.

"Except I'm not," she said, not being able to resist.

Becky looked at her uneasily and Joanne smiled. They continued to chat as they waited for the food.

"-and what are the odds that the physics papers just blow up to me?" Becky said, "Some major coincidence there."

"Or me just being clumsy."

"I drop things on a regular basis," said Becky, sipping her soda, "You don't get to be called clumsy if your dropped items are under ten a day."

"Are we talking a normal day or one when I'm particularly nervous?"

"Normal."

"Then no."

The banter between the two of them made Joanne happy and she tried not to interrupt. It was plain to see that the two were in love. Or more specifically, to her own secret delight, he was in love. Her little physics-nerd son was in love with something that didn't radiate electricity or plasma. Miracles really did happen.

The arrival of the food snapped her out of her musings. The baked potato was placed in front of her. Joanne picked up her fork and took a small bite of it. She swallowed thoughtfully, noticing that Becky was watching her. She hadn't known that she was joking? Oh well, best play along with it.

"It's horrible," she said flatly.

"Mom," Dave said.

"I'm only joking Becky," she said warmly, making sure to wink at her, "It's great and I think your taste in restaurants is quite nice."

Becky glanced over at Dave and sighed.

"Guess fake-outs run in this family," said Becky, "I'll have to get better at spotting them. Just have to laugh when it's all over."

Joanne smiled broadly.

"I'm glad to see you have a sense of humor," she said, "I think we're going to get along famously."


	27. Prompt 91: Sight

91. Sight

Veronica watched in interest as the Alchemy room was finally finished. The doors were power-drilled in by Jack who looked like he was doing something distasteful. She'd originally come up there to help discuss the proper runes to put over the door. That and to get some fresh air. With one thing and another she wasn't getting out much.

Alchemy had long since stopped being a staple for most young sorcerers. None of the New York Merlinians had been trained in it, not even Bianca. They knew how to make a few potions, but not real alchemy. So it appeared that she'd have to teach the twins it as well. Oh well. It wasn't like she minded teaching too much.

She was discussing with Bianca when she could come in and get them started on things. Her pregnancy had left her feeling a little tired at all times. Now, in her rather advanced stage, her back had started to hurt. Training the twins was going to have to be put on the backburner until that was gone.

Until she was comfortable with Lorna, as she affectionately called the baby, leaving the house than she was going to try and restrict too much strain. Veronica still came from the time where walking around a room was thought to cause a miscarriage. Not that she had ever believed that, but she wanted to avoid too much unnecessary strain.

"How's sometime in December sound?" asked Bianca, "The sooner you can start with them the better. Then we can get the little scamps making weapons. Have 'em do some useful explosions for once."

Bianca glared over at the two twins who did their best to look innocent. Veronica laughed.

"Perhaps," she said, "I wouldn't want to start anything too close to Christmas though. Doesn't feel right."

She was still discussing dates and things when she felt it. It felt like a small cramp and she wondered if Lorna was kicking again. Then the pain increased and she was on her knees. Bianca started yelling something about phones and the twins rushed over. Veronica's vision blacked out, her last thoughts ones of sheer panic.

.

.

.

"You're not bringing your quarterstaff up high enough," Balthazar said, tsking his tongue, "Let's try that again."

"My arms aren't that long."

"Well you could at least try."

"I am trying," Dave argued.

"And I'm the president of-"

Dave's cellphone went off, interrupting his master. It was a song by OneRepublic and Balthazar gave him a look as if to say 'really?'. Dave shrugged at him as he rolled his eyes. Dave flipped the cellphone open and said cheerfully, since anything that dragged him away from quarterstaff practice with Balthazar was welcome;

"Hello, this is David Stutler-"

"Dave?" Bianca said urgently on the other side of the phone, "Is Balthazar with you? I've been trying to get ahold of him for the past half hour but his cell's off or something."

"Balthazar!" Dave called, "Is your cell off?"

"Don't want to waste the battery," said Balthazar.

"Yeah, his cell's off," Dave told Bianca.

"Could you pass yours to him then?"

"I don't know, this is kind of expensive-"

"Damn it Dave this is urgent!"

Taken back Dave tossed his cell to Balthazar. Balthazar put it to his ear and sighed. Then, as he listened to Bianca talk his expression of irritation eroded into one of disbelief. His mouth opened a few times as though he would try and deny what was happening but he didn't say anything.

Dave watched with a sinking feeling as Balthazar tilted his head back. He was obviously trying to keep in tears.

"I'll be right there," he said, closing the cell.

Balthazar stopped and breathed in deeply. Finally he looked at Dave as though he had just noticed that he was there.

"Something's happened…" he said.

.

.

.

Veronica woke up with a throbbing feeling inside of her head. She saw Balthazar next to her and sighed.

"I had this awful dream…" she murmured, "I think I need to lay off the sushi no matter how much I want it. You see, I was in the Chrysler building…"

Then she noticed all of the blinking lights. There was an IV inside of her skin and she wasn't in her room. Balthazar was sitting in a chair next to her, holding her hand. Events rushed back to her with a frightening clarity. Panic set in and she tried to sit up. Balthazar pushed her back gently.

"What happened?" she asked, near tears.

"You…you started to have a miscarriage," he said quietly, "We were…we were lucky. The ambulance managed to get to you in time. Apparently Jack had 911 on speed dial. Clever man."

He swallowed hard and the grip on her hand intensified.

"What aren't you telling me?" she asked.

Balthazar looked away.

"The doctor thinks that… thinks that they're not going to be able to save the baby," he explained, the words forced, "He thinks that there's a ninety-eight percent chance that we'll lose her in the next day or so. He thinks that…"

Veronica had closed her eyes. She was openly crying now.

"He thinks that it would be better to end it now," he said, "That you may end up getting harmed if…if we wait for too long."

She sobbed. Balthazar leaned forward and held her as best he could in their positions. This hadn't been what she'd envisioned, not at all. They weren't supposed to lose their first child. They weren't supposed to lose **any** of their children. Not after everything they had been through…

They could use no magic on this one. Veronica had asked Merlin about it long ago. He had told her that using magic on pregnant women was difficult. Normally what happened was that the mother was healed but not the baby. That healing would lead to problems and miscarriages. Such were the awful consequences that she herself had never tried it. Now she wished that she had at least some hope about magic solving this. She didn't though, and neither did Balthazar.

"I asked him," he choked out, "If there were any other options. He said we could have the baby delivered…induce the pregnancy. But it's a few months early and she might not even survive that…they don't think there's much chance if we-"

"We have to do that," Veronica interrupted, desperately clutching at his shoulders, "Don't you understand? That's what we have to do. I won't consider…I won't…I can't let…I can't…"

"I know," he said, "I thought we should try that too."

There was a tense silence. Balthazar withdrew and reached into his pocket. With a shaky hand he withdrew an envelope. Veronica looked at it for a minute before realizing that it was the third envelope that Lacy had given them when they were married. Balthazar flipped it over so that she could see that 'May 7th' was written across the flap of the envelope.

"I kept it with me today in case something happened," he said, "I knew that it was today but I didn't think…"

He swallowed as Veronica nodded. His fingers fumbling he ripped open the envelope and withdrew the pastel from within. The picture showed a small child with raven hair and glittering blue eyes at around five years. The child was laughing as Balthazar picked her up. Veronica was standing next to him, one hand wrapped around his shoulders and the other patting the girl on the head. On the bottom of the paper the name Lorna Margaret Blake was written, born May 8, 2011.

They looked at each other. Balthazar held her hand a little tighter.

"There are lines," he said, "It's not certain. But we need to fight for it."

Veronica nodded. Balthazar folded the picture up and placed it in the envelope. Then, his hands still trembling, he reached for the call button.

.

.

.

After twelve hours of intense labor Lorna Margaret Blake was born. She was put into an intensive care unit but she seemed to be doing much better than normal babies at her age did. The hospital staff were calling it a miracle. The waiting Merlinians just cheered. Miracles were always welcome in their line of business.

Veronica was able to hold her for a minute before she had to be taken away. Her hair color wasn't apparent just yet. Lorna's eyes blinked open for a second and Veronica could see that she had her father's eyes like the picture had shown. Then she had handed her to the nurse, seeing her daughter placed in good medical care.

She leaned backwards, exhausted. Sweat plastered her hair to her forehead and her breathing was coming in gasps. Balthazar kissed her on the forehead, his hands clutching hers. He hadn't left her during the delivery and refused to leave her for more than a few minutes after their daughter's birth.

He did leave the hospital eventually. He left it with Veronica and Lorna, taking the two of them home. They also had to bring the dozens of flower arrangements and balloons that their friends had brought. When they arrived home Veronica placed Lorna in the prepared cradle. The two of them watched her sleep for around an hour, completely silent, drinking in the sight of their daughter.


	28. Prompt 92: Touch

92. Touch

"Let go."

There was no response.

"Oh yeah, you don't know what that means. Let's try something a little different. Lorna, honey, it's time to let go," Balthazar tried.

Lorna cooed and dug her little fingernails into his finger. She wasn't letting go and it hurt more than he'd like to admit.

"Very impressive motor skills for this stage of your development," he said, trying to be positive, "Vero-your mother is going to be happy when she hears. I think she's started sleeping more deeply after you were born. You're tiring her out a little. Either that or she wants me to get involved more. But it really is time for you to let go, and I mean it."

Her second hand joined the first.

"Lorna…" he said, his eyes narrowing a bit.

She gurgled but still wouldn't let go. Getting her settled back into her cradle would be quite a task. Not that he would feel very comfortable in a bed with walls around it, so he understood her reticence to be put back. Still, he had to put his foot down somewhere or lose that power in the future when he'd need it.

"Lorna," Balthazar sighed, "It is now at least three a.m. Now nothing's wrong with you that I can figure out. So what are the other alternatives here? Were you just screaming for attention this time? Do you like waking us up this early? Or did you just want to try and rip apart my skin?"

Lorna blinked at him and gurgled. Balthazar sighed and looked down at her little hands.

"Your Uncle Dave, when you get old enough please do call him that at every opportunity since it'll freak him out, is some sort of genius by today's standards" said Balthazar, "And do you know what he says? He says that he read something that says that babies mostly understand the world through their sense of touch. Their sense of smell is supposed to be weak, and they don't connect most things with sight, so touch is supposed to be their big thing. Could explain why you're doing this right now."

He smirked.

"I'm not so sure where or why he read that. He's a little young to be having kids by today's standards. He also said that when people leave the room they cease to exist for a baby and that's how come they're always so happy to see people. Out of sight and out of mind."

Balthazar shook his head.

"While this begs the question about how exactly they know this, it might also explain why babies are so inconsiderate."

With his spare hand he stroked her head where a few black strands were growing. Unless something changed unexpectedly in the future she was going to be the child that Veronica always envisioned. He thought of the girl in the picture and looked up to the wall where Veronica had placed it after framing. They had a few years until that was a reality, but it was a comforting reminder of things to come.

"Of course it means that you think you're the center of the universe," he said, "Which I think is accurate in a few ways since you're the center of your parents' universe right now. I'll make sure not to say that too much, make sure you don't get an inflated opinion of yourself when you're older."

There was some more gurgling.

"This is a very one sided conversation," he said, "When are you supposed to start talking again?"

His five-week old daughter just kept gurgling. Balthazar was wondering if there was some sort of special baby code that he was missing here. Realizing that the only way to get her to let go without risking hurting her, she was alarmingly delicate, involved magic he gave up. Picking up his daughter he brought her over to the small rocking chair that Veronica had put in there.

He sat down and rocked her a little.

"Ah well, no real rush for you to be doing something as messy and unnecessary as growing up. About the holding on problem and you staying up we're just going to have to wait until you fall asleep then," he said, leaning back, "Hopefully you'll let go when you're unconscious. Then you can go on dreaming about fuzzy ducklings or whatever it is exactly that babies dream about."

Lorna kept looking at him with the confused expression of babies everywhere, amplified since she was using an eerie reflection of his own eyes. It was odd for him, thinking that he had a child now. He had dreamed so many years of freeing Veronica that he hadn't really pondered the after. Now that that after was resting in his arms he felt as though he'd entered a kind of surreal but wonderful alternate dimension.

"How about a story then?" he asked, "Make both of us fall asleep since it is very late, or early, however you want to call it. There's a fairy tale book around here somewhere. I could levitate it over. Hans Christian Anderson since I can't stand the Grimms. I met them you know. Or one of them anyway. Jacob I think."

Balthazar grinned.

"In the future a lot of teachers will tell you the supposedly charming fairy story about how a stupid little girl in a red cloak gets tricked by a wolf of all things, a very evil looking creature to begin with," he whispered confidentially, "to follow a different road on the way to her Grandma's house. Her name is Little Red Riding Hood, which is a terrible name and an even worse nickname. Now this story has a couple of holes in it. You'd think that the fact that the wolf could talk at all would've tipped her off that things weren't quite right. I know you're going to be much smarter than that in the future."

Using the toe of his foot he started to rock the chair a little. Her grip on his finger was loosening. It had turned into much more of a soft touch but he was on a parenting roll now. It was good to learn from your mistakes but better to learn from the mistakes of others. No way was he going to allow this to happen to her.

"So she goes to the house and do you know what? The wolf, and I never understood why he didn't just eat her as soon as she came in," continued Balthazar, "would've done the world a favor really, dresses in drag like her grandmother. Can you believe that? And do you know what? She falls for it. I mean, she did just get tricked by a wolf into following a different path. But still…just still!"

He smiled.

"Mind you this is her grandmother that she supposedly loves so much and is bringing goodies for," he said, "She must've seen her before at least **once** since she knows the way to this woman's house. You'd think that she knew that this woman wasn't all hairy. Red Riding hood mentions this but she just stands there instead of edging away like she should be. I mean, come on here. I'm not asking for this girl to be super smart, but she should be showing at least a modicum of intelligence here."

With a yawn Lorna tried to sit up. She failed and Balthazar shook his head.

"You're not sitting up yet. That comes before talking, but not quite yet," he said, "Like I said, don't go and hurry yourself along too fast. I'd like to get used to being a father before you run off and graduate or get married or some such. Now, do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?"

Lorna leaned back.

"Good. So she gets swallowed whole, which doesn't make any more sense than a lot of things in this story," said Balthazar, "Considering that there was a grandmother that got swallowed too. Unless this wolf had a stomach that expanded then he'd have had to bite down at one point or another or else risk exploding."

He grimaced.

"Glad that didn't happen though. It's already a rotten children's story. So the wolf is so full that it takes a nap, which is probably the only thing in this story that **does** make sense. A woodsman is going by, sees that something is amiss, goes in and, get this, **cuts the two of them out and replaces them with stones**."

Balthazar knew that he was ranting now, but he had the feeling that there was an important life lesson in this somewhere.

"So the wolf, which they just let get away and never go after I should add, falls in the river and drowns," he said, "And nothing happens to Red, despite the fact that she's been exposed to digestive juices which should've had** some** sort of impact, except she's told that she should stay on the road from now on."

Seeing that Lorna was getting tired he got up slowly. It was past time for the two of them to get to bed.

"What the teachers will never tell you, because they don't know it, is that the wolf didn't actually die," he said, "He was a magical creature and could swim. Don't think they actually did the stone bit. However, he could also read. He was so enraged by the Little Red Riding Hood story that he actually tracked down the Grimm brothers and your father had to save Jacob Grimm from getting eaten. Funny how that worked out."

He laid her back into her crib.

"Now here's something for you to think about, if indeed you do think about these things," he said, "You're not going to remember tonight. I know you didn't understand anything I said. You're not even going to take it in, so I'm going to have to tell you not to trust talking wolves again when you're older."

Making sure that she was positioned right he covered her up with her blanket. Lorna yawned and batted at the air with her little hands.

"You're not going to remember anything," continued Balthazar, "If you remember anything at all you're going to remember holding onto my hand and digging your little fingernails into my skin. That's going to leave marks you know."

He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.

"You might remember that," he said, "and I sincerely hope you do. It does make for a better memory than the story or the fingernails I can tell you that much."

Straightening up Balthazar walked out of the room and into his. He might not mind getting up in the middle of the night so much.


	29. Prompt 29: Hell

_**A/N: **__I was actually surprised how popular this pairing got. There were originally just going to be a handful of one shots, but I think I'll expand on them a bit more. _

29. Hell

"How long are we going to keep on doing this?"

Drake's hand paused for a minute before the corkboard. He picked up another pin, not turning around. The doors in the house didn't have locks, more the pity. Someone should've told Ashley's parents to invest in some home security. Then again, if they didn't care enough to take their daughter with them then they probably couldn't be bothered with this either.

"Doing what?" he asked.

"You know," Ashley said, "I walk into a room, you leave it. I ask you a question, you don't answer in more than four syllables. We can't stay in this limbo forever."

"I'm in my room."

"That's three syllables. Not bad so far. Yes, you're in your room. And I came in," she said, "What happens next? What are you going to do about my sudden presence in your room? Are you going to leave?"

"My room. You leave."

"My house," countered Ashley, "My rules. I'm here, talking to you now. I'm not going to leave. What are you planning on doing about it?"

Drake shrugged.

"And there we go," said Ashley, "The vague little gestures. That's actually worse than the four syllables. At least those are words. We haven't actually talked in a few weeks. We can't keep going on like this you know."

With a little more force than necessary Drake jabbed the pin into the corkboard. He could feel the resistance from the wall and let it go.

"I think we can."

"Four syllables," Ashley said, "Look, what's happening must be bothering you too. It can't just be me."

Keeping his back turned to her he started to shuffle his papers.

"I don't much care."

"I think you do," said Ashley quietly, "I can't remember the last time you called me love or sweetheart or darlin'. I never thought I'd miss that."

Drake snorted. They really were just meaningless pet names that he'd picked up in ordinary conversation. Everyone in the neighborhood where he'd grown up had used them. However, she was right about that. He hadn't called her any of those things since…the incident. It had been a conscious effort to do so, and more than once he'd had to bite his tongue to keep back the endearments.

He waved his hand vaguely.

"I'm busy now."

"Leave a message at the tone?"

"Yeah. Do that."

Ashley sighed. He figured that she'd leave the room. Most people did that when he sent out his 'get-away' vibes, even his old managers and agents had. They'd worked great on his mother, although not so great on his master. However, he'd had serious doubts that his master had even a modicum of humanity in him.

It surprised him when he felt her hand on his shoulder. Immediately he jerked his shoulder, dislodging her hand roughly.

"Don't touch me."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the hurt on her face. For some reason or another she hadn't been expecting that rejection. Good.

"I guess I deserved that," she said.

"You did," he said harshly.

Without another word he picked up a pencil. There was another name to add to the diagram and he started to write it in.

"I wish you'd turn around when you talk to me," said Ashley.

"I won't."

"I didn't think you would," sighed Ashley, "I figured this was hopeless, trying to talk to you. You don't care enough to talk about this, do you?"

The pencil snapped in his hand. Drake turned around and laughed bitterly.

"You want more than four syllables in a conversation? You got 'em," he snarled, "You know how awkward things are now? Don't like it? Well it's not my bleedin' fault, I can tell you that much!"

Ashley looked surprised, and then scared. Oh yes, get scared. Big bad Morganian coming to town here.

"Drake, I know it's my fault," she said.

"Well, we're makin' progress now," he said, advancing angrily, "You didn't have to do that. **You **started that**. You**, not me. I was just…something…I was doing something but I wasn't doing anything!"

She was leaning up against the wall, looking down and biting her lip. His hands planted on either side of her head so that he was glaring angrily straight into her face.

"It was a mistake," she mumbled.

"Never heard that one before," said Drake, rolling his eyes, "Usually it's the mornin' after though. Tease."

Her face turned scarlet. For the first time Drake felt a little confusion. She was seventeen wasn't she? Why did **that** of all things make her blush? He suddenly started to wonder how much of an isolated seventeen she was. Just how sheltered was she? It wasn't like she had overprotective parents there to keep her away from the world. Then again, if she'd been the one who'd been sheltering herself…

"So, that's what we're goin' with here?" he asked, trying to cover up the moment of doubt with more anger, "It was a mistake, never gonna happen again, let's move on, forget it ever happened, la dee da dee da?"

Ashley's hands clenched behind her back and she rocked on her heels.

"Not that kind of mistake," she said, "I just mean…I didn't want things to be like that. I…don't trust this…"

"This?" Drake asked, raising his eyebrows.

"This," she repeated, waving her hands in the air, "This…thisness. Just…I don't trust it at all, and I don't understand it."

"You don't trust me," he snorted, "Great. You've made it so much better."

"No…and yes," said Ashley weakly, "I don't trust myself…with you. It's sort of complicated-"

"And here I was thinkin' it was the easiest thing in the world," he said, rolling his eyes again.

"Listen to me for a minute," she said, "Drake…let's just pretend for a minute that I had kissed you."

Her voice faltered for a minute before she swallowed. No…he was not going to play the 'what if?' game. He was not going to imagine what would've happened if things hadn't gone nutty at the last minute. Drake wasn't going to bring himself back to how good it had felt for his hands to be in her hair and on her shoulder. He wasn't going to go into that.

"Let's not."

"What would've happened next?" she blurted, "Please…what would've happened next?"

The emotion in the question took him by surprise. For no particular reason he felt his eyes fall on the broken pencil pieces on the floor.

"Woulda kissed you back," he said.

"I thought so," she said, "And…?"

"And what?" he asked sharply.

"Just and," Ashley answered weakly.

He looked at her, his face frigid.

"I would've meant it. Can't say the same for you," he snapped, "Thisness? Stupid to think that you'd actually trust me."

"I never said that I didn't-"  
"Then you don't trust yourself 'cause it takes two to make thisness," he said, "And I think you trust yourself a lot more than you trust me. Well you know what? Figure it out for yourself and don't come in here with all these stupid vagaries."

With an angry sigh he took his hands off the wall and started walking out the door. Ashley went into the doorway after him. To think that he'd actually thought he was fitting in somewhere, doing something right. Instead he'd gone from living the high life to a shunning situation where no one trusted you. He'd gone back to his childhood. Why had he thought that a change in age would make things different?

"God I'm stupid," he muttered to himself.

Knowing that her eyes were on his back he straightened himself up.

"Know what I'm gonna do?" he asked, "I'm gonna do you a favor. Gonna go back and live in the Chrysler building for a bit. I'll say I drove you crazy or somethin'."

"Drake I just got used to people in the house again," she begged.

She didn't like the idea of an empty house that her parents had abandoned her in? Well who would. He knew that he wouldn't. Would she get upset when there was no one home when she came back, no one to look forward to being there? She couldn't like being alone again. Did the idea of being so hurt her?

"Get over it," he said smiling cruelly and feeling satisfaction when he saw her face, "And you know what? You got something wrong back there."

Ashley was forcing back tears.

"What?" she asked, struggling.

"This isn't limbo," he said, "We've had a confrontation now. Soul're redeemed or damned in limbo by what they do. Don't think this was too redeemin', so I think it's fair to say it's hell now."


	30. Prompt 36: Earth

36. Earth

"Ashley, get into the circle," Bianca said.

Sighing Ashley did so.

"Now, warm-up exercise. First rule of combat," said Bianca.

"Expect the unexpected," Ashley chanted tiredly, "Anticipate and learn while you go along."

"First rule of defense?"

"Keep low and never play strictly defensively. Always keep some sort of offense in there."

"What are we?"

"Servants to a greater cause."

"Glad to see that you remembered," smiled Bianca, "That's great."

"I've had it drummed into me for several years now," said Ashley, "You're the first one who made it into a jody though."

"Don't tempt me. I might make you start running," said Bianca, "Now I know you've had a lot of things going on in your life recently; exams, entering into schools, scholarship applications, graduation, and having an irritating ex-Morganian to come home to."

Ashley winced at the last part. Yeah, that had to have been bad for her. Bianca really hadn't wanted her to have to room with Drake but she hadn't had any other options. Him staying in the Chrysler building was not desirable, which was why she'd recently found him a place that they could set up defensive spells easily for. She was actually surprised at how long Ashley had lasted around him.

"I'm sorry about that," Bianca said sincerely, "I really am. That must've been difficult on top of everything else."

"I'll get over it," said Ashley tiredly.

Yes, she would. Ashley was her apprentice, making her a tough survivor. Although she had only gained official apprentice status with Bianca the previous year she'd been trained mostly by her for a while. Other than that she'd had a rather patchy and bumpy apprenticeship with the former Prime, Justin.

Bianca had never believed herself capable of having children, with being immortal and all. At one point or another she had recognized apprentices as the closest thing she'd ever have. Maybe that was why she'd been so unwilling to take any official ones on before now. Emotional attachment was something she didn't want to have.

As for Ashley though, she'd been a diamond in a sea of coal. Jack had literally found her when she'd run into him in the hallway of their school. To think all of that magic would've gone to waste if he hadn't been vigilant. Now though Bianca felt confident that she was training up the next generation. It felt good. No wonder Jack had become a teacher.

"What I'm trying to say is that you've done an exemplary job this year," she said, "And you're really talented. Not even eighteen yet."

"I'm eighteen in three days."

"I know, I know, I didn't forget," said Bianca, who had actually forgotten and now was trying to think of a suitable way to celebrate, "Back to the subject at hand. I'd say that you'll be able to get official Journeyman status this year. Maybe it'll only take a year or two for you to become a Master after that."

She winked.

"Maybe even get you Lorna for your first apprentice if the Blakes agree," she said, "Nah, I'm kidding. Like Balthazar and Veronica would let anyone else train her. She's practically their little princess."

Ashley smiled a little.

"Now, we've let your training slip a little because of everything that's been going on," she said, "We haven't even started with some of the deeper and non-offensive elemental magic. Think you're ready for that?"

Ashley rolled her eyes and nodded.

"Now this isn't going to be like Plasma bolts or fire balls," she said, "It has nothing to do with the aim and accuracy. It's more like feeling it. Kinda touchy feely, more of the twins department. That's water elemental magic, and I'm really happy we don't have to get into that right now."

"I never thought of the twins as being particularly emotional."

"Ever seen their parents tell them they can't have any more cookies?" asked Bianca, "Trust me, they're emotional. Today we're going to start with a simple earth shield, just your basic level one kind of thing. More powerful than the average shield but also less predictable and less preferred. But it helps to be prepared."

She cracked her knuckles.

"Now some people use earth magic, in its finer forms, to raise the dead," said Bianca, "We're not going to be experimenting with that, nor should you try."

"You don't have to tell me that," Ashley said dryly, "I was nearly eaten by zombies, remember?"

"So was I. Glad we got that settled," said Bianca, "But like I said. You have to feel this. Earth wraps around you and is a projection of your thoughts. It's like how your mind protects you. More complicated and chaotic your emotions are the more complicated and chaotic the shield will be."

Looking a little nervous Ashley said;

"Can we uh, not do this today? Everything…I'm kind of emotionally teaming right about now."

"Get over it," Bianca replied, "Now take a deep breath and clear your mind."

With obvious reluctance Ashley did so.

"Now, I want you to picture that the earth is swallowing you. You're part of it," said Bianca, "Just draw it up and wrap it around you."

The topaz ring on Ashley's finger started to glow. The Merlin's Circle lit up in response. Slowly dirt appeared and started to move around her in a counter clockwise direction. It was solid, Bianca knew that much. She could tell it was good. Perhaps she should concentrate on this area with her. One day Ashley was going to be a great sorceress, she could tell that.

Soon though, she noticed that things were wrong. Some of the dirt started to move anti-clockwise. Bianca frowned but thought nothing of it. When the particles started to move faster she knew that something was very definitely wrong. Her apprentice was now in the center of a dirt tornado.

"Disperse," Bianca said, waving her hand.

The spell didn't listen. Feeling a little panicked she yelled out;

"Ashley?"

"Yes?"

"Can you still breathe in there?"

"It's a little hard to."

Oh boy.

"You have to let go of the spell," Bianca said, "Just clear your mind okay? Clear it completely. I think I may be able to get it to disperse then, okay?"

She heard Ashley take a sharp intake of breath. Once more Bianca pushed against the magic. The Merlin's Circle was making it easier for her to play the Master. That was one of its prime uses, to help Masters save apprentices who got out of hand. As Ashley started to let go Bianca repeated the spell once more.

The dirt fell away and Ashley collapsed on the ground. She looked like she was about to cry. Uncertain about what was going on Bianca walked inside of the circle. The light died down and it was just a painted version of the symbol. She crouched down next to her apprentice, hesitantly putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Guess you weren't kidding about emotional turbulence."

Ashley shook her head.

"Is this about…is this about your parents?" asked Bianca, "Not going to be there for your graduation next week?"

"It's not tha- how'd you know?"

Bianca hesitated.

"I'm your master," she said, "I know your parents haven't been around for a couple of years. I'm sorry about that and I'm sorry I didn't do anything about it. I just thought…I figured you wouldn't want me in your business."

"Thanks for the consideration, and good guess, but I'm over all of that," said Ashley, drawing her knees up to her chin and burying her face in her arms, "I knew they wouldn't come. Not their thing."

She felt lost now.

"Ashley, do you want to talk about it?"

Her apprentice tensed up.

"You don't have to if you don't want to."

"It's not that. It's just…I let someone down. Hurt them. Bad. In return they hurt me back," she said, the tenseness leaving her slowly, "Bad. And now I don't think they're going to forgive me."

"I'll hex 'em if it makes you feel any better," offered Bianca.

"No. Like I said, I hurt them first."

"Yeah, well that sounds like playground rules to me," Bianca snorted, "Eye for an eye kind of thing."

"And how do playground arguments end then?"

"Teacher comes out and smacks everyone," said Bianca bluntly.

"Too bad I'm too old for that," sighed Ashley.

Silence descended. Bianca, who was not entirely ignorant of her apprentice's life, sifted through recent events. She collected information as part of her job and corroborated it with other information. It wasn't too difficult. Her senses pointed to one in particular that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

"Ashley," she said, "Does this have anything to do with Drake Stone?"

The teenager tensed up again.

"You know," she said, "I think you're right. I don't want to talk about it."

And Bianca felt her stomach churn. Damn that boy. She'd told him 'touch her and **DIE**' for a reason.


	31. Prompt 60: Vampire

60. Vampire

"Okay," Dave said nervously as he pulled up to the derelict building in Queens, "Um, you all know why you're here. You've all been briefed on this beforehand. Only other thing I'm going to be able to tell you is that we need to remember to work as a team and keep it together in there."

Michael and Ashley nodded. Michael looked enthusiastic and kept his eyes on the building. Ashley didn't look up though. She had an arrow in her hands and was sharpening the plain wooden end of it meticulously with a pen knife. Dave had seen that her quiver was bursting full of similar arrows and knew that some of them had been dipped in holy water. She'd obviously been preparing this for quite some time.

"Also," Michael said, sitting up straighter, "Good Merlinians, remember that this is for revenge."

"Revenge?" asked Dave, "I didn't hear of any attacks, just that they usually attack and it makes things bad."

"No, there were no attacks," Michael said, brushing away Dave's words with a wave of his hands, "It's still for revenge though."

"Really?"

"Yeah," said Michael, his eyes narrowing at the building, "One day my thirteen-year-old cousin Shireen comes to me with this book she's been readin', right? And she makes me read it to her and she's all swoonin' over this Edward fella and how great and romantic it all is. Made me wanna barf everywhere."

His hands gripped tightly around his stake.

"And then that woman comes out with **three more books**. Guess who had to read those to her?" asked Michael, "And then there were those movies. Who took her? Me. Sometimes I just wanna go up to Robert Patterson and give him a piece of my mind, oh yes, a sharp pointy magical piece of my mind."

He grinned wickedly.

"Time for those vamps to get their come-uppins."

"Michael," Ashley cautioned, "These aren't those vampires. They don't sparkle and they're not 'vegetarians'."

She winced angrily at the word.

"They'll eat you as soon as look at you," she said, "And if we don't get the staking done before the sun goes down then we're in for a fight here."

"I know, I know. I'm just saying that someone has to pay for all the voices I had to do. Preferably horribly."

"Grow-up Michael," sighed Ashley, "Well, Dave?"

"Let's get this over with," he said, looking at Michael with no small amount of trepidation.

"Why, got a date or something?" asked Michael.

"As a matter of fact I do," Dave answered, getting out of the car.

"Oh."

He locked the car behind him and started to go up the steps. It was dark inside and he had to summon up some light. Dave didn't like going into old derelict buildings but he had a feeling it was something that was going to happen in his future quite a bit. Something scurried past his foot and he had to bite back a shriek. As the leader of this particular mission he knew it wouldn't do for them to hear that he screamed like a little girl.

"So," he said, "This is a quick in and out. There's supposed to be eight of them, and they should be sleeping right now."

"Should is the key word here," said Ashley quietly.

Dave stopped.

"Meaning?" he asked.

"Well," she said, "As long as they don't actually come in contact with daylight than they can be up and about."

"Hey, we don't have to worry about that," Michael said, "I mean, plenty of cracks in this old place. Plenty of daylight."

Dave winced.

"You don't actually see any daylight though do you?" asked Dave.

Michael started to look uncomfortable.

"Ah…no…but maybe upstairs-"

"But we're downstairs," Dave said, feeling something fall in the pit of his stomach, "Doesn't matter if there's light upstairs as long as we're downstairs."

Turning his head he looked at the nearest wall. He moved the light a little so that he could get a better look at it. Michael was right. There had been cracks there once. However, they had all been meticulously caulked up. His heart sank even further. The first mission he led was turning out to be a blatant disaster.

"They planned this, or at least had an idea," said Dave, "We're downstairs, and there's no light here."

No one said anything.

"Great," Dave said, "Just great."

He was half expecting the maniacal laughter to start up as soon as he finished talking. Instead there was a fluttering noise. Dave flipped through the Incantus in his mind, trying to figure out what that could mean. They could turn into bats, several bats at a time. How could he forget that?

"Close your eyes," he muttered.

The other two sorcerers obeyed. Dave even closed his own eyes as he turned up the intensity of the light he was making. Shrieks erupted from the vampire bats and he wagered a peek. A few of them were disintegrating into solid forms, their eyes adjusting to the light. Well, that had worked.

He brought the light down and hit one with a plasma bolt.

"Open your eyes!" Dave yelled.

An arrow hit the vampire next to him in the heart, dissolving it into ashes. Taking it as a sign that at least Ashley had obeyed Dave got to work. He sent another plasma bolt flying before staking the stunned vampire. It dissolved and Dave made a quick mental count. That was two down and six to go.

"Son of a-!"

Dave looked over his shoulder at the abruptly cut off curse and saw Michael on the floor. His foot was facing entirely the wrong way, what he guessed was the work of the vampire on the ground. However, he had shoved the stake through its ribs. The vampire shrieked and Michael laughed triumphantly;

"You go to hell Edward Cullens!"

Ashes showered him. Another one came after him but one was going for Dave too. He had to keep dodging this one's blows. Stumbling against the wall he let some of his power flow into the supporting wooden beams. A sharp protrusion came from it, stabbing the monster in its head and then in its heart. He was so glad that Balthazar had shown him how to do that the previous week.

More arrows were flying and there was more stunning going on. Ashes were flying thick in the air. Dave tried to make sure that none got in his eyes or mouth. From his seat on the floor Michael wasn't doing bad, sending off spells when he could. His shield was holding, which was good because otherwise he probably wouldn't have been able to last so long. Dave was counting that at least five vampires were dead now.

The other two were occupied with Ashley. They were too close for her to be using arrows normally, so she had gotten rid of her bow and was fighting with her arrows as stakes. As Dave hurried over there one swiped at her neck with his talons. Blood erupted in the air and the vampire started to lick his fingers. Ashley clutched at her neck and dropped her arrows. Her ring hand remained out though, pointed at the two vampires.

"I. Have. Had. ENOUGH!" she screamed.

Fire erupted from her hand and consumed the vampires. Dave covered his ears against their shrieks. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Michael was doing the same thing. Eventually the flames died down and ashes filled the air once more. Ashley continued to stare at the spot where the vampires had been, panting heavily.

"Are you uh…okay?" asked Dave.

"Fine," she snapped, tearing the sleeve of her t-shirt, "Just dandy. All dead right? We're done?"

"Yeah," said Dave.

He remained silent as Ashley wound the cloth around her throat.

"It's not a big scratch," she said, "I'd be more worried about Michael. We'll have to take him back to the Chrysler building."

Dave stared at her blankly.

"The twins," she snapped, "A twisted ankle, or broken, is a little difficult to deal with and they're the best we've got."

"Of course," Dave said, scrambling to help Michael to his feet, "Does it feel like it's broken?"

"It feels like a mass of firey pain," shrugged Michael.

Ashley collected her implements that she had dropped. Dave felt that he should try one more time.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

"I said I was, didn't I?"  
"I mean…one of my therapists said if you had anger issues you should breath in through your mouth and out through your nose-"

"I don't have anger issues!" Ashley snapped.

"Saying that in that tone is a little counter-productive," pointed out Michael, "You know? Just a little."

"You want that other foot broken?" asked Ashley.

"No…"

"Then shut up and get moving," Ashley said, tying off the bandage, "Worst birthday ever."


	32. Prompt 71: Conscience

71. Conscience

"So," Bianca said as she studied the papers in front of her, "You think that they're about to elect a new leader?"

"Not exactly. Slight power struggle goin' on there," Drake said, "Jordan Grant's son thinks his father innit givin' him enough responsibility. He hasn't actually named him his heir, as is the norm for them."

"I've been around here since the twenties. You don't need to tell me what's normal for the Grants."

"Be that way then," said Drake, rolling his eyes, "But they're sayin' he might not now. He dinnit even technically train him."

"Not the favorite son?" asked Bianca.

"Not really," shrugged Drake, "I think he liked his younger brother Clay. That kid's only fifteen. However, couple of the other young bloods are sayin' that it's about time that Jordan stepped down, or at least started to make plans to do so. Basically we've got the next generation in a hurry to get rid of the old."

She tapped her fingers on the desk thoughtfully.

"I've heard all of this before from other informers," she said, "Not the bit about him not training him though. Who did do it then?"

"His Uncle."

"Interesting. I wonder, does this have anything to do with the vampires we have in Queens?" she asked.

"So they ended up in Queens?" asked Drake.

"They do then."

"Simon, that's Jordan's boy, thought that they'd convince his father he had what it took to do some serious damage to the Merlinians."

"He's a little incompetent then," said Bianca, "We sent people to take care of them this morning."

"That's not going to look good."

"No it isn't," agreed Bianca.

"If you'll regard my opinion," said Drake, "It looks like there's going to be a coup for power very soon."

"Shit."

Drake was surprised.

"Thought you'd like them going for each other."

In response he got a thin smile.

"The last all-out Morganian coup was in San Francisco," she said, "Before my time. Also known as the Great San Francisco Earthquake and Fire."

"Ooooh."

"Yeah," she said, "Not to mention that this changes things. Jordan Grant has stayed the course of the Morganians after the Sorcerer War of the twenties. He's looking for opportunities but we know how to deal with that. Young blood can ruin everything."

Drake leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. That was something to take into consideration. An explosion from somewhere else in the building made him start.

"Julian and Tabitha are training," she said, "That it?"

"For now, yeah."

"Anything else you feel the need to talk about?" she asked.

He shifted uncomfortably.

"If this coup thing gets bad then I might have to blow my cover."

"It's possible," Bianca agreed, although he could tell that that hadn't been what she had expected to hear.

"I know the original plan was for me to be an official Merlinian after that," he said uncomfortably, "But…uh…well…"

"Stop muttering."

"I'd rather not," he said.

Bianca looked at him shrewdly.

"Come again?"

"I'd rather just retire somewhere if that's good with you," he said, "Leave the city, that sort of thing."

Her eyes bored into him.

"Perhaps Mr. Stone, perhaps. We'll see how everything is going when the time comes. Things working out good for you in your new place?" asked Bianca, changing the subject, "It's only temporary you know, just to tide things over. But how's it going?"

"Okay," shrugged Drake, a little surprised at the change in subject.

To be honest they weren't. He was finding that he was missing a certain red-head in his life, missing her alarm clock when it went off down the hall, her rushing habits, and fights about okra. He'd have to get over that though. Drake had, rather effectively, made sure that that was never going to happen again.

The more he replayed their last conversation in his mind the more he felt that he'd overdone it. Yeah, he'd meant to hurt her and he'd meant to hurt her bad. After all, rejection bit. Drake wasn't used to being on the receiving end of it, had never been hopeful for a relationship serious enough to hurt. He tended to stay away from such things. His mother was a prime example on why you shouldn't get too attached to people.

When he was younger he'd read the Arthurian section of his Incantus. It was, as his then Master had put it, the most important part of our history. He hadn't understood how a simple no from Veronica had sent Horvath over the edge and set him up as the first Morganian. To his young mind it was inconceivable. Now he sort of understood.

Still, when he'd left later that day he'd felt smug. As soon as he'd walked past her room though he thought he'd heard crying. He had hesitated. Some small part of Drake Stone had wanted to go back and apologize for what he'd done. Maybe he'd admit getting his hopes up of being something that he wasn't; of at least having her think that he was a halfway decent guy.

Drake was still nursing his own wounds though, so he'd gone without saying a word. Now, some time later, he was starting to wish that he'd gone in. There had been no locks on that door like there had been no locks on his. He could've just gone in. However, he wasn't that decentish guy. He had still been raised Morganian and was still too selfish. That just made him wish that he had gone in all the more though.

"You're ungrateful," said Bianca, casually picking up a letter opener and using it to pick her nails, "Your second chance and all you ever do about it is complain complain complain. You deserve a good smack over the head."

"Don't I know it."

"Ingratitude doesn't surprise me though," she said, inspecting her nails, "After all, a guy who traumatizes a seventeen year old girl probably has it in him to be a complete asshole."

"Well I- wait, what?" asked Drake.

The chair he was in flew back until it hit the wall. He hit his head twice. The first time was on impact; the second time was when the chair threw him out onto the floor.

"What the hell did you do you miserable piece of vermin?" snapped Bianca.

"Now I'm really confused.  
Bianca got up from her desk and stormed over to him. Her heels clicked dangerously close to his face.

"I'm talking about what the hell happened with Ashley," Bianca snarled, "Or did you forget whatever it was you did?"

"I didn't do anything!" he protested, trying to get up.

"Stay down," she demanded, "I'm in no mood. Maybe you didn't know, but Ashley doesn't have a lot of people around her. She has Michael as a friend, and two or three girls at school who she can't tell half of what goes on in her life to. She's got Becky now too, but just barely. Point is; **Ashley doesn't have a lot of people in her life**. So when one of them pulls a stupid-ass stunt things get bad."

She crouched down. One of her hands pulled up Drake's head by his hair so she could snarl in his face. This was the most surreal day ever.

"For family she's got the Merlinians, no one else," she continued, "Her brother and her parents…**I** don't even know where they are! But when she gets hurt she suffers through it quietly. Still waters run deep. When she breaks down during practice though, that means something is insanely wrong. So you tell me what you did right now!"

He opened his mouth and shut it. Drake wanted to protest that it hadn't been his fault but the words died on his lips. Some of it had been his fault. And she had broken down during practice? It was an awful way to think, even for an asshole like him, but did that mean that he really meant something to her?

"Answer or so help me-!"

"I left," he said, unsure for a minute that he had even said anything.

"Pardon?"

"I got close," admitted Drake, "We got some thin's in common. I liked being around someone who didn't judge me."

He looked balefully up at Bianca, who had the grace to look a little embarrassed.

"So you were friends."

"Not exactly," he said, wondering why he couldn't seem to shut up, "But it wasn't like that, alright? It wasn't even…we weren't…"

He trailed off.

"We fought and durin' it it became apparent she dinnit trust me," he said, "An' that…that really hurt. So I did what I knew would hurt her; left."

The fist around his hair started to loosen.

"Of course," said Bianca slowly, "She got used to having you around and then you left. That's the worst thing you could've possibly done. Congratulations Drake; you're a grade A bastard. Do you even **have** a conscience?"

He was about to respond when a loud noise came from the hallway. Bianca looked up and let go of his hair abruptly and he got up. She opened the door to the hall to see Dave, Ashley, and Michael limping in. A bloody bandage was around Ashley's throat and Michael was obviously injured.

"What the hell happened here?" demanded Bianca.


	33. Prompt 76: Envy

76. Envy

The apprentices and journeyman froze.

"Ashley," said Bianca, her voice tight, "Do you mind telling my why you have a bandage around your neck?"

Drake was eager to hear why that was too.

"Oh, yeah. This. I can see how that looks. This isn't what you think it is though," Ashley said, pointing to her bandage, "Just got swiped at by some talons. Michael's the one who managed to get himself injured."

He gave a small moan for emphasis. Drake glared at Michael. He was leaning on Ashley rather heavily, despite the fact that the Boy Wonder was there too.

"My foot hurts," he moaned.

"Probably your own bleedin' fault," Drake said harshly, "Are you even distributing your weight right? Bet you aren't."

Ashley turned towards him before looking away. Michael made an indignant noise but Dave was the one to speak.

"Who are you? You sound a little familiar."

Before awkwardness between Drake and the sorcerer he'd tried to kill could come up Bianca quickly said;

"Andy Walcott. Transfer student to NYU. From England," she said, "Fairly new. Needs to be with a group while he's here."

Andy? Really? He understood that she was working under time constraints but was that the best that she could come up with?

"Uh, okay. I can see how that could happen," Dave said, still looking at Drake oddly, "About Queens. The vampires walled up their home really good and were up and about. We weren't expecting that so we got hit a little harder than we expected. But…um…we won. They're all dead."

"Thus I am avenged against Edward Cullen and Stephanie Myers," declared Michael.

"No casualties but that was sloppy work, all of you," snorted Bianca, "Okay, set Michael down on one of the couches now. I'll go get the twins."

Ashley did so, not looking at Drake. Michael was whimpering all the way, even more so when he was set down.

"Get a grip on yourself," said Drake, enjoying himself now.

"Have you ever broken an ankle?" demanded Michael.

"Yup," said Drake, honestly, "Several times."

"Oh."

"That's right, oh," said Drake as the twins and Bianca arrived, "You have nothin' to be complainin' about there. Where I come from you start whimpering if your arm's off."

The girl twin, Tabitha was it?, went to where his ankle was. She propped it up on the other side of the couch. This time Michael managed to restrain himself. Her brother Julian went over to Ashley who removed the bandage. With a simple tap from Julian's hand the wound closed itself up.

"We're going to have to set it before we can heal it," Tabitha said to Michael.

"But that's gonna hurt!" wailed Michael.

"So does life," Bianca said, who appeared not to have much patience for Michael's fussing either, "Now Ashley, you're going to need to tell me exactly what happened up in Queens-"

"No!" Michael said, "No she's not."

"And why is that?" asked Bianca.

"He hates me," Michael said, pointing to Drake, "And Dave, well, he's a good guy but I'm not holding a guy's hand when something painful happens. No offense."

"None taken," Dave said.

"Sexist," sneered Drake.

Bianca seemed to agree. Drake was starting to feel a little smug. After all, she was most likely going to take Ashley away.

"I'm already embarrassed enough!" pleaded Michael

"Fine," sighed Bianca, "Dave, you come with me and tell me what happened. Sorry about this Ashley."

"No problem," assured Ashley as Michael snatched up her hand.

Drake eyed the contact and felt one of his hands form into a fist behind him. He watched as Julian poked the ankle and Michael howled.

"Seriously, if you're gonna to make such a fuss then you shouldn't have gotten injured in the first place mate," said Drake nastily, "So you can stop makin' the little girly noises-"

"Will you shut up?" snapped Ashley.

He stared at her as she shook her head and turned back to her fellow Merlinian. Something inside him started boiling. This was it, this was the absolute pinnacle. First all that mess with Bianca and now he had to go and watch this. The more he thought about it the more he wanted to smack Michael's stupid face.

"You know, I think I can do that," Drake said before turning on his heel and storming out of the room.

Michael's little shrieks followed him into the library. Drake slammed the doors behind him although he found the noises a little comforting. They would be stopping soon anyway. What a wuss. It wasn't like he'd have to be on crutches for a couple of weeks or anything. There's be no lasting damage. Bianca herself had seen that.

So why had Ashley been so accommodating? A small voice in the back of his head said that he didn't have a right to think like this after what had happened, but he shoved it away. Michael was her age, no older, and Drake knew that she wouldn't raise this much of a racket over a non-fatal injury. Why would she condone it in others then? Her own master had been rolling her eyes for cryin' out loud!

He started pacing. Was it because of who Michael was? He had been, after all, trained as a Merlinian. That much was obvious; otherwise he wouldn't be in the Chrysler building. Drake himself was only allowed in there because it was the most secure place to meet. When he wasn't whining Michael was probably a good guy. He probably volunteered and had good manners and was an awful liar. He probably wouldn't have passed by Ashley's door when she was crying because of something that he said.

Drake began to feel sick. What's worse, he began to feel like the 'Grade A Bastard' that he knew that he was. Despite what Bianca appeared to think he did have a conscience and it was kicking in full gear right now. The first time he saw Ashley since he told her to 'Get over it' and he had started by insulting her good-guy Merlinian friend. Great.

The door opened and he pivoted around. Ashley stood there, her arms crossed and her chin raised defiantly. She'd gone from being upset to mad. Screw his life.

"You didn't need to do that," she said.

He felt like he was six and being told by the teacher that he shouldn't have put glue in Brittany May's hair.

"I did darlin'," he said.

She looked at him, surprised at the familiar endearment. She should be. He hadn't used it to refer to her in a long time. Struggling she said;

"And why is that?"

"Innit it obvious? It's because I'm insanely envious of him, that's why," Drake answered, his voice bitter.

Ashley did another double take. Her defiance faltered a little before she reinforced it.

"Before you ask why sweetheart," he said, "It's 'cause no matter how hard I try people are gonna hold him in higher regard than me. He's gonna go off to be a good guy an' I'm still gonna be that asshole Morganian reject. And that's probably all anyone is ever gonna see me as."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Feeling that he had less to lose now he walked until he was a foot away from Ashley. She didn't flinch away, which he figured was a good sign.

"But the fact of the matter I **am** an asshole Morganian reject. You know that better than anyone," sighed Drake, "Don't you?"

Ashley looked away. Now he was on thin ice and his heart was lodged in his throat. There was no way to do this right. Drake Stone didn't apologize. Not even when he'd thrown that coffee into that reporter's face. This was going to suck no matter how hard he tried. However, he still had to try.

"I'm sorry about what happened," he said, "I felt rejected an' yeah, that was my fault for not tryin' harder."

Shuffling his feet a little he sighed.

"I can't guarantee that I'm not going to keep bein' that," he said, "No matter how much I try. But I'm never goin' to be a bastard. Not again. It's not the best deal, I know, but it's all I got. An' if you want it…"

He looked at Ashley and saw that she was crying silently.

"And now I've mucked everything up again," he said, rubbing the back of his head, "And I'm really sorry about that. I-"

She interrupted him by grabbing the front of his ugly sweater and pulling him closer. Before he could even wonder what happened her lips were on his. He blinked, wondering if this is what normally happened when a couple, even if they weren't exactly a 'couple', made up. Drake really couldn't care less. He liked it.

His hands were in her hair and it felt like they were on the couch that time ago, no, better. He pulled her so that she was pressed up against him. Ashley deepened the kiss and he responded eagerly. Her hands twined around his neck as she pulled away, her face flushed and panting.

The two of them looked at each other, her still in his arms. She kissed him again on his lips, this time a little more chastely.

"Is that a yes?" he mumbled helplessly.

"Deal," she said, laughing now.

Hesitantly he brushed some hair away from her face.

"Dinner? Movie? Something?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, grinning, "Best Birthday ever."


	34. Prompt 47: Excalibur

47. Excalibur

"Dave?" asked Balthazar, "Are you sure that everything is secured?"

Rolling his eyes Dave looked up at the door to the lab. He could see Balthazar's shadow outside of the door.

"Yes, I'm sure," he said.

"If you're wrong I'll kill you."

"Balthazar, I swear on my honor as a physics geek that everything is completely safe," he said, putting one hand over his heart and raising the other in the air dramatically, "Now will you please calm down a little?"

The door opened. Balthazar came in grudgingly, carrying his young daughter in his arms. She seemed to be asleep. For being Balthazar's daughter Lorna sure was quiet.

"If you're so worried about this why don't you leave her at home?" asked Dave, going up to his Master.

"Alone?" growled Balthazar, "That's a perfect idea! Leave a month and a half old child all alone in a house. Heaven forbid you have any children."

"I assumed Veronica-"

"Doesn't have a life?" Balthazar snorted, "In case you haven't noticed she's training those brats of Bianca's up at the Chrysler buildings. This is the first time our schedules collided since Lorna came along. Between the two of us we figured out that it'd be safer if Lorna came with me."

He glared at Dave shrewdly.

"One slightly incompetent adult apprentice is better than two child apprentices with a penchant for blowing things up," he said.

"Alright, point taken," Dave said, "So what child-safe activities are we going to be doing today?"

Balthazar waved his hand at a few chairs. They turned into a small, cushioned pen.

"Sword fighting," he said as he laid Lorna inside of the pen gingerly, "No magical crossfire involved in that."

Lorna yawned and half-heartedly rolled over. Dave noticed that the jumper she was wearing was definitely homemade. During Veronica's pregnancy Dave had noticed that Veronica would sew almost non-stop. He figured that this was one of the products of that particular activity.

"Yeah," Dave said, letting his mind go back to the problem at hand, "But there's a flaw in that."

"Which is?"

"We're still throwing around sharp objects," Dave pointed out.

"She's out of the way, and she should be fine if there's a shield around her," said Balthazar, looking over with apprehension at his daughter, "That should work. That would work, wouldn't it?"

Dave wondered if all fathers were this concerned with their children. He knew for sure that his father hadn't been, but his father hadn't been worth much. He had never seen Balthazar worry about anything this much, except perhaps Veronica. Of course, that had been a much quieter sort of concern.

Perhaps it was because Lorna was so little that he couldn't stop thinking about everything that could possibly happen to her. She was defenseless in perhaps every way that pertained to the situation. Normal parents worried about their children doing something dangerous in the world. Balthazar had to take magic into account as well as everything else.

Not to mention she was his first, and perhaps only, child. From what Dave had heard Balthazar hadn't had much contact with children before Lorna's birth. His handling of the situation when Dave had been ten had been evidence of that. He couldn't imagine that the following years had supplied him with more child skills. You didn't interact much with children when you're trapped inside of an urn.

"So, swords," said Balthazar, clapping his hands together, "We stay inside the Circle. You step one foot outside of it it comes off."

"I get the idea," Dave replied, taking off his hoodie and flinging it onto a nearby chair, "Sheesh."

Balthazar turned and walked up to a nearby wall. He pressed his hand up against it and it went in. The wall slid back to reveal a case of swords. Most of the lab was rigged up that way. Dave couldn't have Bennet or his professor coming in to see a whole case of swords. He was lucky enough that they hadn't noticed the Merlin's Circle or had just brushed it off as some old designs on the floor.

Selecting one from the cabinet Balthazar stepped inside the Circle. The outside lit up, flames following the outside edge. As soon as he saw what his Master was doing Dave started scrambling among his things. He needed his equipment Balthazar wasn't exactly the patient type when it came to his training.

"Did you bring Excalibur?" asked Balthazar.

"Give me some credit," said Dave, finally finding the sword and pulling it out, "Ever since you told me about that Dragon thing coming up…"

He shuddered. For a minute he thought that he saw a shadow of a smirk on Balthazar's face. It disappeared quickly but he could've sworn it was there.

"Now," Balthazar said, swinging his sword around a little, "Let's get started."

His first swing was easy to deflect. Veronica, who was much more skilled with a sword than Balthazar, had been the one to teach Dave. He had also dueled with one of the world's greatest, and most definitely the deadest, swordsmen. So he was more than just proficient with a sword.

This had shocked him. He had never been very good with sports; he'd even sucked at tag. There was nothing particularly strong about him. Now, after magic had made its entry into his life he was finding that he had some skill. Since he was learning that fate had more than just a little say in events he thought it might have something to do with his new vocation. Well, it was either that or he had been scared into physical fitness by Balthazar.

Whatever the cause was some sort of muscle had started to build in his arms, legs, and abdomen. It wasn't much, and he most definitely wasn't going to be on the cover of any fitness magazines. However, he was used to being the weak geek. Having any sort of strength was a miracle to him.

The next blow wasn't so easy. Dave had to jump backwards and to the side. He immediately started to look for weaknesses in Balthazar's offense and defense. Veronica had taught him to do that, had even made a few shadow partners to duel with so he wouldn't get too used to concentrating on her weak points.

"If you can't find a weakness," she'd told him once, "you're going to have to make one."

Balthazar was as good as a shadow partner in that result. Dave had never fought his Master before. Quarterstaffs were a completely different beast from swords. They were both means of attack and both called for good footwork. A quarterstaff was so much more unwieldy than a sword though, and required both hands.

One of the good things about having two hands was that he could use one to catch Balthazar's wrist when his sword came down. Dave used the hilt of his sword and jabbed into it, weakening Balthazar's grip. After that he had to get away fast, but he had just created a weak point. Just had to make it weaker now.

All of his following attacks focused on that wrist. He tried to be subtle but Balthazar picked up on it. Balthazar started playing it more offensive and Dave was panting openly now. He had the feeling that all of his time off had him getting lazy. That was certainly what Balthazar would be saying if he wasn't panting so hard himself.  
However, Dave was winning. He could tell. Balthazar was tiring now and his wrist really was injured. Dave had only obtained small cuts so far. This was due in part that Excalibur was superior to the sword that Balthazar was using, but Dave couldn't help that. Excalibur was superior to every sword ever made. He could only hope that the English Merlinians wouldn't be asking for it back any time soon. Good thing that Bianca was 'good friends' with their Grand High Sorcerer.

He kept pushing him back, further and further. Even Balthazar seemed to know that he was going to lose. Dave could see it from the expression in his eyes. In the same lab he had once been beaten by his lover. Dave smirked as he thought about how he was now going to be beaten by his apprentice at the same thing.

Then, out of nowhere, Lorna began to wail loudly. Dave started, dropping his sword. Balthazar knocked him down.

"Yield," Balthazar said loudly over Lorna's cries.

"Come on!" complained Dave, "That wasn't fair!"

"Are we really going to go into this again?"

"I would've won if-"

"-You hadn't been distracted," interrupted Balthazar, "Now yield so I can see if anything's wrong with Lorna."

"Fine," Dave said, "Yield."

Balthazar threw his sword aside and picked up his daughter. She quieted almost immediately and started gurgling.

"Nothing wrong," murmured Balthazar to Lorna, "Just didn't like all the noise now did you? That's right, go back to sleep."

Sighing Dave got up and brushed off his jeans.

"Don't see why **you **weren't distracted," he grumbled.

"I was," said Balthazar, "I just have a fight instinct instead of a flight one. You were, how shall I put it, between a bear and its cub."

Looking at where he was standing Dave realized how true that was. He had been, when Lorna had uttered her cry, in front of the pen. Balthazar hadn't knocked him down to win the fight. It hadn't had anything to do with their duel at all. He had knocked him down to clear a path for himself to his daughter.

Thoughtfully Dave looked over at Balthazar and Lorna. He rocked her a little bit before placing her back into the pen with great care. Although Dave had just lost something he thought he'd win he felt a little vindicated. He had been, after all, right. Balthazar was turning out to be an excellent father.


	35. Prompt 32: Meadow

_**A/N: **__There've been a few Balthazar and Lorna chapters so I decided to do one with her mother. Not trying to harp on the same subject, but I felt a different view of this particular parenthood would be interesting. _

32. Meadow

"Just you and me today, okay?" Veronica said as she picked up her daughter, "Just you and me."

Lorna squirmed a little as she was placed inside her stroller. It was packed with things they'd need, snacks, blankets, and a few stuffed toys. Still, Lorna was struggling. For some unfathomable reason she had developed a strong dislike of the vehicle. As if to make sure that she didn't have to use it the child was trying to learn how to walk. Veronica was worried that she was going to hurt herself if she didn't keep an eye on her.

However, she soon got her daughter into the stroller. She had been dying to get out to a place that didn't include the Chrysler building. The twins were nice but on the spoiled side. They would drive her mad if they had the chance, and they were looking for the opportunity continuously. Veronica had done right when she'd let Balthazar babysit their daughter that day instead of doing it herself.

Today was to make up for it. Veronica had been paying attention to the weather report closely and found out that that day was supposed to be pleasant. Central Park wasn't too far away from where they lived. She figured that this would be the first of the many trips she'd make there with Lorna in the future.

It seemed like a realistic expectation. Thus far her child was proving to be very active. In New York there wasn't a lot of safe wiggle room for a child. Getting little Lorna used to the park seemed like a good idea. Besides, fresh air was supposed to be good for children, no matter what they had believed when she'd been a child.

Back in the day when Spring time was plague time many parents kept their children indoors. Even the poorer folk, who had had to go out and farm, had tried to keep their children inside as much as possible. It was to this class of people that Veronica had been born into, and the fears of disease were very real.

Veronica's mother, Yvainne, had always made sure that her children got outside. There hadn't been any need to encourage the boys. They were needed to help work on the farm, plague or no. Veronica had taken a little more coaxing, but her mother had firmly insisted that she should get out there more.

So her daughter had been everywhere with her, learning the craft that was her legacy. The legacy of the Hunt family was a long and honorable one. Veronica had always assumed that she would keep her mother's maiden name like her mother had. It was a security for women as powerful as Yvainne that they didn't end up with nothing in the event of marriage to squandering and wastrel husbands. Both her mother and father loved each other, but Yvainne had never taken his name for her own.

She was also aware of how much her mother loved her sons. However, as Veronica had been given to understand, it was the women in the family who were taught how to use magic, to really use it. It had been Veronica's big threat in any squabbles in the house. She couldn't count the times where, as a way to settle a dispute, she had shouted;

"You stop that right now or I'll turn you into a toad!"

"You wouldn't," one of her brothers would insist.

"Don't you test me!" she'd say back, waving her hand with her ring on it, "I'll do it! I will and then I'll put you in the lake!"

It had been monstrously effective, despite the fact that Veronica didn't actually know how to do that. Transformation was an advanced form of magic. Many years later, when she was eighteen, she would learn how it worked. Back then it was just an empty threat. She doubted that even her mother knew how to do it.

She heard Lorna make a noise inside the stroller and touched her daughter's forehead. Lorna quieted a little.

"Everything alright sweeting?" she asked.

Lorna gurgled, her only form of communication other than giggling and crying.

"Alright then," she said.

Her mother had always told her to stroke babies on their heads to calm them down. Yvainne was a talented midwife and she'd taught Veronica a few things despite her age. That was how Veronica always managed to get Lorna to sleep so quick. For some reason babies liked to be patted on the back. It put them to sleep faster than rocking them, or at least it had in her experience.

As Veronica turned a corner she wondered about her mother. She had only a hazy image of her in her mind. Her memories were somewhat sketchy. Like Veronica she had had dark hair and eyes. The dark beauty of the Hunt women was something of comment in Scarborough. It was rumored that their family was related to Italian immigrants somewhere down the line, and thus their dark looks. Veronica hadn't been old enough to be interested when she'd heard that, so she didn't know for certain.

Her voice was musical. During the winter she would sing a little and teach Veronica a few songs. Music of all forms was encouraged in young women for the purpose of entertaining their families during that time. Sometimes her brothers would join in, but most of the time they just sat and listened.

Later in life Morgause had taken her under her wing. She had taught her how to play the harp, something essential in a noblewoman. No matter how much Veronica protested that she wasn't a noble, Morgause had insisted on treating her like one. The Queen of Lothain had been one of the few who had and Veronica had appreciated that consideration.

Every time she played the harp she had remembered those nights where her mother had sang to them. Veronica had never been much fond of singing, so playing the harp had been just fine with her. It was an odd sort of thing to remember, especially since her mother had never even seen something as luxurious as a harp. Veronica reasoned that it was because her mother had been musical and she would've approved of her playing an instrument.

Still, she couldn't quite grasp the picture of her mother's face. Yvainne had been murdered, along with the rest of Veronica's family, when she was nine. That thought had disturbed her during her pregnancy. If she couldn't even remember her own mother well than how could she be expected to be a good mother herself?

So she had started to grasp onto memories of her mother. They were few. Oh, she could remember the lessons that her mother had taught her well enough, but never when they had been taught or how. Her own experiences with her mother were so abstract and far away she had started to search for memories and cling onto them.

One of them included her mother taking her to a meadow. She sat her down while she went to gather mushrooms for one of her potions. The work was delicate, something that she didn't yet trust to the machinations of a young child's hands. Yvainne had left her then six-year old daughter a short distance away and had gotten to work.

Being a six-year old Veronica had quickly gotten bored. She had wandered far off, collecting flowers to make a chain. When there was a sufficient amount of them she had sat down and made a long one. If memory served her correct it had had all sorts of flowers in it; dandelions, daisies, any type of flowers that were nearby. Veronica hadn't been particularly picky.

When she was finished she wound it around her throat several times. Then she got up and started to look around. Only then did she realize how far off she was. She had started to call for her mother and get worried. It would soon get dark and there were still wolves wandering in the forest back then. Feeling very scared and alone Veronica had started to wander in the direction she had come.

Nothing seemed to look familiar. Finally Veronica had sat down in the tall grass and started to cry. After a while she heard movement. Her mind suddenly jumped to the wolves that she had thought of earlier. She hadn't yet started to learn magic so she was all but defenseless. Panic set in and she called for her mother one last time.

The tall grass was pushed back and her mother was revealed. Yvainne's face was sweaty and her hair tangled. Brambles were caught in her skirt. Despite all of this when she saw Veronica her face went from desperation to joy. She ran towards her and picked her up, holding her tightly.

"I'm so sorry," Veronica had sobbed, "I was so scared, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry mother, I just-"

"Shhhh," Yvainne had responded, stroking her hair, "I've got you sweeting, I've got you. Don't worry, I've got you."

She had then, with Veronica still in her arms, made her way home. In the morning had come the lecture about how she shouldn't have run off. By that time the panic had faded though and all that remained was the urge for that to never happen again. The next time that Veronica had run off from her mother was when Taurus had invaded their home.

Reaching Central Park she turned under a tree. It was starting to get hot and it was cool under the tree. Veronica took out the blanket that she had packed and laid it down on the grass. Then she took Lorna out of the stroller. Her child giggled, obviously happy to get out of the despised stroller.

She laid Lorna down on the blanket, careful to make sure that she was comfortable. Once she was satisfied she sat down. Looking up she saw that almost immediately Lorna had sat up, something that she had recently mastered. Her daughter looked around the park and gurgled as if to say;

"It's a fixer-upper, but it'll do."

With another gurgle she tried to get to her feet. Veronica moved forward at the same time that Lorna fell. She caught her daughter and pulled her close. Lorna started to cry a little. Catching her breath a little she checked to make sure that she wasn't hurt. Satisfied that she was crying only out of shock she held her closer.

"Shhhh," Veronica soothed, patting Lorna's back, "I've got you sweeting, I've got you. Don't worry, I've got you."


	36. Prompt 18: Subway

18. Subway

"I never really liked using the trains," Becky admitted.

"Why's that?" asked Dave as they took a seat.

She looked at him and shook her head.

"Let me see," she replied, "I've gotten mugged down here, and there was an undead sorcerer who decided it would be fun to try and crash our train on Halloween. Any of this sound familiar?"

Dave gave a nervous grin. The doors to the subway closed and the train lurched ahead. He didn't like the subways very much either, for a very similar reason. If she knew half the monsters he hunted down here she'd just get all the more nervous. No reason to tell her about the incident with the metal eagle either.

"A little, yeah," said Dave.

"They're still the best way to get around though," she said.

"Not to mention one of the cheapest," said Dave, "The college is still considering that proposition to give students discounted subway cards though. They're dithering about it though so I don't think it'll happen any time soon."

"No rush," said Becky, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "They're very much within my budget so…"

Her voice trailed off. Dave watched as Becky folded her hands in her lap, twisting them a few times.

"Becky?" he asked, "Something wrong?"

"Not really…but…it's just that…" said Becky, "it's been around a year since my grandmother died."

"Oh," said Dave, remembering the emotional turmoil she had been in when Lacy had first died, "I know."

Truthfully he had. The date was approaching fast and he knew that this would be hard for Becky to deal with. To her surprise she shook her head.

"It's not that," she said, "Well, it's partially that. It's just that in a few months I'm going to be starting my major classes."

He inclined his head, listening intently. If there was one thing he prided himself on it was that he was a good listener.

"And you know that my mother picked my major for me," she said, "I didn't want to take Law but I didn't want to estrange myself from her."

The train stopped and opened its doors. Since it wasn't their stop Dave didn't even look up. He was familiar with this story, ever since Becky had told him her major. It didn't make sense either way. Becky watched as a few more people came in. When the doors closed she sighed and continued.

"My grandmother always told me that I should go my own way. She didn't think much of my mother you know."

"I know," said Dave, remembering the way that neither Becky nor Lacy would mention her mother, "I know that they don't get on."

"She isn't much of a mother Dave, but she's still my mother," said Becky, "In her own way she just wants what's best for me. What parent doesn't? But the fact of the matter is that her ideas of what's best for my and my ideas differ greatly."

Dave had seen this firsthand when he'd met her mother. At first he'd thought she was a college student, but he'd learned later it was just from all the plastic surgery. That was probably why he didn't recognize her as Becky's mother right off. All of that surgery had left her looking almost nothing like her daughter.

Her original aloofness had convinced him that she was a friend of Becky's roommate. He couldn't fathom Becky being around someone so heartless. As soon as he found out that she was her mother his heart sank. She had said things that he'd never even heard during his worst days as a perceived nutcase at his school. They had just been children back then. This was an adult observing that he wasn't good enough.

Later Becky had hunted him down and explained. He had shrugged it off and never seen her mother since. She hadn't come to Lacy's funeral, and neither of them had expected her to. Since the death of Becky's father the two of them had started their great dislike of each other. Becky's mother probably couldn't care less if the woman who raised her daughter in her stead was dead or not.

"I got that," he said.

"You also know that I don't want to be a Law student."

"You've told me."

Becky gave him a wry smile.

"Dave, a little after the funeral my grandmother's will was read," she said quietly, "The thing is…Bianca and I are her only real living relatives."

The way that she said 'real' gave him the feeling that her mother hadn't been included in her will.

"She gave Bianca some jewelry with sentimental value," continued Becky, "Something about a long time ago."

Her eyes were misting now and Dave wrapped an arm around her. She leaned into the contact gratefully.

"She was involved in a lot of charities, on the board of many committees," she said, "She left some money to them and all of her father's magical artifacts to the Chrysler building. I can only say that that seems appropriate to me."

"Yeah," Dave said, finally figuring out where some of the new décor in the building had come from.

"But she left me…Dave," said Becky, "She left me everything else."

He blinked.

"**Everything** else?"

"Yes," said Becky, "My childhood home, all the rest of her money, and three sealed envelopes with dates on them. Just like Balthazar and Veronica."

She closed her eyes. He briefly remembered the three visions that Becky's seer grandmother had left the couple.

"For the first time in my life I'm financially independent Dave," said Becky, "I can do anything I want. I can quit college and go yachting for the rest of my life. It doesn't matter that much anymore."

Dave swallowed.

"I thought you said that you get seasick."

"I do," she said, smiling a little, "but that's not the point. My grandmother came from extremely old money Dave. Her father was rich, his father was, all the way back to the revolution I think. There's a lot of it Dave."

"So what have you been doing with it?" he asked, trying to be tactful.

"Nothing," said Becky, "I put it in my bank account and it's just there right now."

She sighed.

"I'm signing up for my law classes this week," she said, "My mother's been paying for my college. It's just…I woke up this morning and I realized that I didn't **have** to. I don't have to worry about money for college and I can sign up for a different major."

Suddenly Dave understood. The train stopped again, but this time he continued the conversation heedless.

"You want to do something with music?" he asked.

"I was thinking fine arts," she said, "I'm not that far behind, I took most of those classes as electives after all. But, I'm not so sure."

He pulled her a little closer. Now he knew what the problem was.

"Your mother."

"Just because she left me doesn't mean that I have to leave her," she said, a little defensively, "And just because I can doesn't mean I should either."

Dave sighed.

"I'm not sure I understand that," he said, "But it's your life. You have to lead it no matter what happens."

"Dave, she's all I've got for a mother."

"And I never had a father," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, "But things work out sometimes."

"You don't understand."

"Not really. I just said I was having trouble wrapping my head around it," he said, "I'm not going to try and give you advice that I can't give. I'm being honest with you. Here's the thing though…"

He kept his face serious as he looked her in the eyes.

"I think your grandmother left you that money because she wanted you to have options. I'm not saying it specifically because she wanted you to change your major or anything," Dave said, "But she might've been thinking it. Like I said, I think that she wanted you to have options with your life."

Becky looked away.

"What is it that you want?" he asked, "What is it that you really want from your life? Do you want to be a lawyer?"

"You know I don't."

"Then I think you've answered your question," he said, "I think you have to live your life for yourself, not based on what other people want."

"I can't just…"

"If she doesn't understand than it's her fault," Dave said, "That's the truth. Try all you can to keep things good between the two of you, but don't let her control you."

The train stopped at their stop. Becky didn't say anything as she got up. He grasped her hand and she held it as they went through the doors. She remained silent on their way to her apartment, only whispering goodnight when they got there. Dave could only hope that he'd given her good advice.


	37. Prompt 22: Snake

22. Snake

"No, no, an' **NO**."

"Why not?" demanded Ashley.

"Because it's weird, that's why," Drake grumbled, "Why can't you be normal and like fuzzy thing like kitties and puppies?"

He was standing as far away from Ashley as she could. His time on his own had expired and Bianca had been shocked that Ashley would take Drake back into her house. Her looks had been sharp when she'd informed Drake of his new accommodations, and her threats sharper. No problem. He didn't intend to do that again.

As such he was willing to put up with a lot from Ashley. He was the one who'd been an asshole after all. Drake was trying to be more considerate, put her before him more. This was difficult because he was extremely self-centered. Ashley noticed his efforts and found them amusing. That was another thing he could put up with.

This was a bit much though. He had never been one for animals. Even the panthers, ocelots, and jaguars in his shows had made him twitch a little. When he was younger he hadn't ever dreamed of having a pet. Perhaps he was allergic to animal dander. It wasn't like he could use that excuse this time around though.

"Why can't you be normal and keep your hair one color?" retorted Ashley.

"Now that is a low blow darlin'. I've been a brunette for about a year now," he snorted, "But that doesn't excuse…that."

"Are you talking about Loreley?" asked Ashley.

"Who else would I be talking about?"

Ashley grinned. The snake that she had recently bought was wrapped around her neck. Its fore-body was wrapped around her arm. Loreley's head rested on her palm. The large purple-blue snake looked at Drake in interest. Every time its tongue would flicker out. Every time it did that Drake couldn't help but flinch.

"I thought boys were supposed to like reptiles," she said.

"I'll like reptiles the day you wear pink."

"I have a pink shirt I can go and put on," said Ashley cheerfully.

"You know I didn't mean it like that," Drake snapped, looking around the room and trying to figure out how far away he could get from Loreley without going into another room, "It's not literal."

"I'll take it as such though," said Ashley, nuzzling Loreley with her head, "Come on. Pet her. She feels really great, therapeutic."

"You are really pushing it here."

"It's what I do," she said.

"What, cuddle snakes?"

"You scared of snakes?"

"No," he said in indignation, "Nothing of the sort."

"You're scared," said Ashley, a smug smile on her face.

There was going to be no arguing with her.

"Where did you even get that?" he asked in exasperation.

"Michael's father raises them," she said.

"Oh, not him again."

"Michael's a good guy," she said, "When she was born he offered me one for my birthday, since she wouldn't be ready to leave yet. I've had my eye on her for a couple of months. She was finally trained well enough for me to take home."  
"You should've warned me," protested Drake.

Ashley cocked her head at him.

"Why would I do that?"

"We're basically livin' together here," he said, "And I'd at least like to know if you were bringing in a snake. Things like that are important sweetheart."

She stared at him.

"It's important," he said stubbornly.

Ashley bit her lip.

"I'll…I'll just go put her away, okay?" she said, "I got the cage in my room and…I'll just go now."

"What're you-?"

Before he could finish Ashley turned and all but fled out of the room.

"Great," Drake muttered to himself, "What did I do now?"

He waited for her to make a reappearance. He needed to at least figure out what was wrong here. When she didn't he sat down and turned on the T.V. It was a way to kill time, but he made sure that he didn't put on any children's shows by accident. After about ten minutes of watching the news she came back in.

"What was that about?" he asked.

He expected her to sit down next to him. She didn't and he frowned. Drake turned off the T.V. and looked at her critically.

"Somethin' wrong?"

She sighed.

"Look," she said, "I'm eighteen and I'm going into college."

"Yeah," said Drake, "I was sort of there when you got that acceptance letter. Remember that?"

"I've never really had a serious relationship before-"

"Makes two of us," he said.

"Stop interrupting," snapped Ashley, "And…to be Frank-"

"If you want to be Frank than can I be Judy?" asked Drake.

He smirked as her glare turned up a notch.

"I'm just saying that the idea of living with someone is a new one and a rather uncomfortable one," she snapped.

Drake's smirk abruptly fell off.

"That's what's got you upset?" he asked.

"Not upset just-"

"Upset," finished Drake, getting up, "Ash darlin', if you wanna be like that then we've been living together for months."

"But we weren't together then," she said uncomfortably.

"Livin' together implies, how shall I put it," said Drake, scratching his chin, "Sort of means that-"

"I know what it means. I'm not a child."

"An' I'm bleedin' relieved about that," said Drake, "But it's not like that. We both know that it's not like that."

She turned away from him.

"Think anyone else thinks it's like that?"

Drake bit back the lie that he wanted to tell her. He was trying to be honest these days. It was something easier said than done.

"Bianca might," said Drake hesitantly, "Explains why she looks at me like I'm scum. Might be somethin' else though."

He heard her take in a sharp breath.

"Bianca?" she all but cried.

"Hey, it's not you she doesn't trust, it's me," said Drake, "Like I said, it might not be because o' that."

She sighed. He walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist. Ashley breathed out when he pulled her up against him.

"You embarrassed o' me or somethin'?" he whispered, his lips next to her ear.

"All the time."

"Hmm," he grinned, laying a kiss on her jaw, "That's not the kind of embarrassment I meant."

"You know that stuff doesn't matter to me," she said, leaning back into him, "What's past is past. I'm glad your hair doesn't stick straight up anymore and you removed all those ridiculous piercings."

"So you don't care if I was a Morganian, just as long as I don't have piercings?"

"Yep."

He grinned again before sobering up.

"You didn't answer that question though. Are you embarrassed to think that someone thinks we're together in…that way?"

"Just because I'm not that kind of girl," she said, "Not because it's with you."

"Good," he said, abruptly letting go of her, "Well I'm off. Don't wait up."

Drake could feel Ashley glaring at him as he went down the hall.

.

.

.

The next morning he woke up to Loreley's snake eyes staring at him. Her tongue flickered out, just brushing his nose. Drake screamed and flung the blankets off him. The purple snake hit the floor, hissing at him. Laughter filled his ears and the light turned on. In the new light he blinked and made out Ashley.

"That'll teach you," she said, scooping up Loreley, "Don't mess with me."

"Oh, I'm going to get you for that," he growled.

She quirked an eyebrow. The next thing he knew she'd draped Loreley around his neck. He screamed again and flailed wildly. The snake jumped away from him and landed in Ashley's arms. She watched him flail for a little more before walking out of the room. As she did she told him;

"Just watch out. I might decide that Loreley needs some **playmates**."

Drake groaned. What had he gotten himself into?


	38. Prompt 49: 777

_**A/N: **__And we've hit over 100 reviews! I wanted to comment on the 100 reviews when it happened, but to my embarrassment I forgot. In my defense things were busy. Thanks for all of the support everyone!_

49. 777

"Balthazar!" called Veronica as she stepped inside, "I got the fabric softener, but they were out of that kind of jam you like. It's not like bramble berry is that common."

She shut the door behind her, struggling under her load. Veronica waited for a minute and then rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she muttered, levitating the bag of groceries to the counter, "I've got it, don't you worry. No need to help me, none at all."

In the past he had always been there promptly to help her. She figured that he must be with Lorna. Not to mention that he had been training Dave earlier that day, who was phasing into the more difficult spell work. Still, a little help wouldn't kill him. Just as she thought of this the man in question came into the room.

"Perfect," she said, "Although I would've preferred it if you could've graced me with your presence a little earlier."

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Veronica frowned. This was new.

"Don't worry about it," she said, her tone cautious, "You're just in time for another activity actually. You can help me put these away."

He nodded briefly and got to work. Veronica watched him out of the corner of his eye. There was something in his posture that unnerved her. His shoulders were slumped and his movements seemed heavy. Balthazar's face was expressionless, so anyone else might think that he was tired. Veronica had known him long enough to know better though.

When they had finished with the groceries he turned to leave the room. She grabbed his arm and cocked her head.

"Something you want to tell me?" she asked.

Balthazar shook his head.

"We're married now," she said, "Our daughter is asleep in the next room. We are past the point when you can just shake your head and assume that you can get away with it."

He sighed deeply and headed into the living room. Knowing that he wouldn't just leave her hanging after that she followed him. With ponderous movements he let himself fall onto the couch. Veronica went onto the couch too. Almost immediately he tilted his body and laid back. His head rested on her lap.

When they were apprentices they had done this often. For four years they had been entangled with each other romantically. It was an intimate gesture of comfort between the two of them. She completed it, stroking his head. Veronica started at the forehead and moved back until she had reached the ends of his hair. His eyes closed and she waited patiently for him to lighten his burdens with her.

She remembered when he had held her in this manner. It had been after she had gone on a mission near her home town. Many people in the area had died, some of whom she had known. Some of them were even technically her family. When she had come back her inability to cry had prevented her from expressing herself emotionally. However, when he had held her like this and touched her face she felt as though she were somehow unburdening herself.

In the end she had ended up needing it less than Balthazar. His relationship with her had estranged him from Horvath. By his own machinations the gap between himself and the other apprentices had only become wider. His own irritability had left Balthazar mourning the loss of his friend. When they had been betrayed though, neither of them had seen it coming. There had never been time after it for anything much, but they would most likely have had to hold each other.

"I was training with Dave today," he said, her hand coming to rest on his cheek, "He's far more advanced in his coursework than I was prepared for at this point. Both with his ring and without."

"He's still pretty lousy with his swordsmanship," said Veronica.

"And with a quarterstaff," agreed Balthazar, "Although he did nearly beat me with swords the other day."

She laughed. He'd told her all about the incident.

"I need to carry Lorna with me more often," he said, "Use her as my alarm."

"You're not using our daughter as your alarm."

"Hmmmm," he said, wriggling his back so he was more comfortable.

"So, what's going on?" she asked

Balthazar sighed.

"I asked Dave to try a very advanced spell today," he said, "Wanted him to stop time for a full ten minutes and perform magic while in that time vacuum."

"Balthazar," scolded Veronica, "You shouldn't have done that. It took us months to work up to that and Prime Merlinian or no that was very advanced."

He was silent. Finally he said;

"He did it on his first try."

Veronica couldn't hold back her gasp of astonishment.

"Are you sure we're talking about Dave?"

"I was there," he said, his eyes snapping open in irritation, "It was his magic too, not someone impersonating him."

"But…to do something that complex, that means that he would have to be-"

"Of the 777th degree, yes."

She swallowed as she tried to figure this out. The Prime Merlinain had always been very strong. Dave's ability to use power without his ring had, in some ways, elevated him to a level far beyond her or Balthazar. However, if Morgana had kept her head that night in Batter Park it would've been a different night. She could have easily killed Dave if he hadn't had the power of Merlinian ingenuity and his own smarts on his side.

His own encounters with more level-headed and less-power-reliant sorcerers proved that. He had a long way to go with his training, that had been apparent to Veronica when she had first met him. Dave's power rested mostly in his potential, not his actual know-how. Now things were obviously different.

"I see," she said.

"I'm not sure you do."

"I'm trying to," Veronica said, peering down at her husband and letting her hair brush his face, "You should be proud of your apprentice. He's a master in his own right now. He's already famous and he'll only become more so in the following years. Dave is a legend in his own lifetime. He-

"-won't be needing me anymore then," Balthazar finished for her, his voice showing traces of bitterness.

Veronica blinked. His tone surprised her, as did the confession. She knew that he would probably never express that sentiment to anyone else. He tended to be guarded around people, perhaps because of Horvath and perhaps because of events during his search. When Veronica had seen the bond between master and apprentice she had been astonished.

This was no less astonishing, but for very different reasons.

"That's what you think?" she asked.

"Well why shouldn't I?" laughed Balthazar, the bitterness still very obvious, "Students graduate school and go off into their own lives. I suppose it was always coming. I didn't quite think it would happen so soon."

"I think you're a little inaccurate with that assessment," said Veronica quietly.

"Am I?"

"Yes. A teacher and a student implies more distance than what you've exhibited with Dave," said Veronica, "I'd compare this more to father's reaction to a son moving away to start college or a job."

She felt Balthazar stiffen.

"I'm not his father."

"Not biologically," said Veronica, "but the fact of the matter is that you are much closer than many masters and apprentices. That's probably why you're taking this so hard."

"…perhaps."

Veronica smiled.

"Definitely. And as for biologically, when I first saw the two of you I thought about how much you were alike. You know, if I had known you any less better I would've thought that he actually **was** your son."

His hand gripped her wrist tightly.

"Don't even joke about that," he said, "It's been about you. It's always been about you. Forever."

"I know that my love, I know that," she said, tilting her head and kissing his lips lightly, "But the two of you are very alike. He is awkward like you were, but much louder. He looks up to you you know."

For a long time there was no answer. She started to wonder if he was going to answer at all when he whispered;

"I know."

Veronica smiled.

"Then you shouldn't be worried about this."

"And why is that?"

"When sons leave the house they don't sever ties," said Veronica, "They still need their fathers. They still come to them for advice and support. They come to them when they don't know what to do."

She felt him relax a little. He might not understand just yet, she herself was sure that she didn't fully understand. However there was, despite what Balthazar seemed to think, plenty of time for him to come to terms with the oddity of the situation. Veronica felt confident that her assessment was correct. Dave would not be leaving their lives any time soon.

"You have absolutely nothing to worry about," she said, "Nothing at all."


	39. Prompt 52: Mask

52. Mask

Talking to Dave in the subway had been difficult. Becky had never been one to unload her problems. Hence Dave had never known about her father's death or her mother's distance until he'd run into her mother. She had been raised to take care of herself. Independence had been one thing that she'd prided herself on. Becky had tried to be independent both emotionally and physically.

That was probably why she had been so taken back when Dave had entered her life. Immediately she had felt like she could talk to him. It was like meeting her grandmother, same but different as well. Dave had been unassuming and just drawn words out of her. That was probably why she had struggled to understand about magic, to keep the relationship going after a mad man had kidnapped her.

She still needed him and wished that he could be by her while she made what was probably the biggest choice of her life. Well, it was the biggest choice in her life academically and in familial terms. In overall terms it was probably to continue with Dave. It had introduced her to magic and a whole different world.

Becky wasn't going to have him hold her hand while she did it though. Her grandmother had made it so that she relied on herself first and foremost. Becky wasn't going to be a burden to anyone. Nor was she going to be the clingy girlfriend. Closeness could bring people together and drive them apart. She wasn't going to jeopardize her relationship over something that was her responsibility in the first place.

That was why she entered her guidance counselor's office alone. Her heels had clicked on the floors and she seemed to be slightly detached from herself. There, after asking after her, her guidance counselor asked her why she chose to visit. In a soft-spoken voice that she tried to keep steady, she had simply said;

"I'd like to change my major."

Her guidance counselor had quirked her eyebrow but said nothing. She hadn't been surprised though. She'd known that Becky hadn't been happy and had actually urged her to change her major on a few occasions. The woman was discreet, declining from asking why she'd had the sudden change of heart. Such behavior was good because Becky didn't feel like talking about it with her.

It was made official two days later. All she needed to do was wait now. She was nervous, still steeling herself for the repercussions of her choice. That there would be repercussions she was sure. She needed to face them though. That was why she didn't call anyone right after the decision was made.

Still she walked on eggshells. Becky felt like she was balancing on the head of a pin. It was a good thing that Jill wasn't very observant. Dave, Veronica, Balthazar, even her new friend Ashley would've noticed that something was wrong immediately. She purposely avoided them because of that. She needed to do this herself.

When the call that she was waiting for did come she was in the living room of her apartment. She had woken up only an hour before. Summer had its advantages, ones that she used. One of them was sleeping in and being able to pet Dorothy lazily. The dog was very affectionate and seemed to understand that something was going on.

As soon as she saw the caller ID she knew that the time had come. As if in a dream she had gotten up and walked into her room. Dorothy followed her, but she shut the door before the dog could come in. She needed to do this alone, something she well knew. Once there she flipped open the cell. Taking a deep breath she said, as casually as she could;

"Becky Barnes."

"It's your mother."

As if she didn't know. For a woman who was so obsessed with having the best and the newest thing she'd never really gotten the hang of caller ID. The voice on the other end was cold, snappish. Becky tried to remember if it had ever held any real warmth in it. She felt sad that she couldn't remember. The idea that if she ever had then it was just a mask seemed very real.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Don't be cute with me," her mother snapped, "You know perfectly well why I'm calling. Why'd you go and pull that little stunt with your schedule? No warning, nothing. I thought you a little more responsible than that."

She breathed in. Becky knew that if she concentrated she could see the future. Part of her wanted to go and see how this conversation turned out. The other part of her said no. Her grandmother had taught her that life should have some surprises. This moment was far too important for it to play out like a re-run of a soap opera.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," said Becky, "This sounds familiar but I haven't done anything like that recently."

"Now you're just being-"

"Because I did warn you," Becky said.

There was an irritated silence.

"When was that exactly?"

Her mother couldn't even remember for sure. She had never really listened. Her heart was already sinking.

"From the moment you picked my major for me," she said, "You knew I wouldn't be happy with it. I told you so. But you knew best, or so you said. I've put up with it for a long time but I'm not a child in play clothes playing adult. I am the adult now."

She could hear her mother seething on the other end of the phone.

"Was this always your plan?" she spat, "To pretend like you were going to agree with me then change things at the last moment?"

"No," Becky said quietly, "But I should've seen it coming. I should've known that I couldn't let that happen to myself."

"Couldn't let that happen to yourself," her mother repeated sarcastically, "Becky, you seem to forget that you're going to college with **my** money. Your granny isn't here to back you up this time."

Anger flashed in Becky's mind.

"My grandmother, your mother-in-law, is dead, yes," snapped Becky, "I don't need to be reminded of it. I remember very well. Unlike you I was at the funeral."

"Is that what this is about? Just because I wasn't at some old woman's funeral-"

"You're not anywhere," said Becky, "Anywhere at all. If I get married I won't even bother to send an invitation. Why would I bother? Even if you came you'd just be complaining about the décor and the groom. It won't be because anything is actually wrong, it'll be because that is what you do."

She took a deep breath before plunging on.

"And my grandmother loved me like you never did."

"Rebecca-"

"Stop calling me that," Becky snarled, "Stop that right now. You know I prefer to be called Becky. You've known that since I was four. You don't care. And for your information my grandmother loved me enough to try to give me my own life. Don't worry, I won't be wasting your precious pennies for my education."

Over the other end of the phone she could tell that her mother was doing some thinking. It was good that there was a pause because it gave Becky a chance to pull herself together. She was losing control of the conversation and she was going to have to take it back. Right now she couldn't afford to get hysterical.

"Explain," her mother said.

"She left me enough money to get through college and beyond," said Becky, "I'm set, I'm secure."

"That meddling-"

"You're not going to say that about her," Becky said.

"She's been in my business from the minute Gregory died," snarled her mother, "I was never good enough of a wife or a mother for her. I was never good enough for her boy period. I could always tell that that was the way that she felt."

"So you're making up for your perceived inadequacies and slights by making me feel worthless?" said Becky, "You're a real charmer."

"You don't understand."

"I wish I could," said Becky, her eyes misting up, "But you never listen whenever I try to. It's all down to listening now, and you don't want to. I can't wear your expectations like a mask over what I really want from my life. I can't."

Now the conversation was winding up. There was only one other thing that Becky had to ask. This was what she had been dreading.

"I just want to know one thing; are you going to hate me forever for doing this?" asked Becky, "Is there going to be any chance of talking it out, of you really listening? Or is it just your way or the highway? Is that it?"

With bated breath she waited. Her hopes were dashed with seven words.

"You need to learn to listen Rebecca!"

"No," she replied, the tears running down her face, "No, you do. This subject is closed. If you want to talk to me again, try to reconcile, then I'll be here. I'll always be here and I'll always be ready to listen. But…I need to take off that damn mask."

Feeling defeated she hung up her cell phone. She placed it on her shelf and walked out of her room. Dorothy whimpered upon her arrival and she petted her, trying to reassure the animal. Becky put on her coat and walked out of the apartment. Feeling a little hollow she walked a few blocks before hailing a taxi. She wasn't in any condition to be walking around right now, though it wasn't even the afternoon.

Arriving outside of Dave's apartment she rang the doorbell. He answered, as usual. Bennet was part of the party scene, both day and night. He'd only ever answered the door a handful of times. Dave smiled but knew something was wrong. She remembered the last time she had come and stood in his doorway like this. That had been a long time ago, and there was no way she would get that hysterical again.

"Becky-" he started.

"Shhh," she said, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his waist, "Just hold me for a minute."

Dave enfolded his arms around her and complied.


	40. Prompt 31: Flower

31. Flower

"He's not supposed to know that it's my birthday," muttered Bianca, her nails tapping on her desk, "How does he know it's my birthday?"

She glared around the empty room as though suspecting the upholstery of betraying her. Perhaps it had.

"Not supposed to know," she said.

A bouquet of roses was on her desk. They were from George, just like they were every year. Ashley had told her about it when she went in. As her apprentice she was in charge of cleaning up her office and some secretarial responsibilities, so it wasn't surprising that she had been the one to find them first. Nonetheless Bianca had been shocked.

Once she had let slip that her birthday was in July. She couldn't remember how many months ago that had been. From then on he'd been sending flowers to her during that month. They were usually just one or two roses every few days because of the fact that he didn't know the date.

A bouquet on November 30th though? Not one or two roses? Too much of a coincidence. Somehow or another he found out that it was her birthday.

"This sort of thing shouldn't bother me. But there's no need for him to be doing all of this. It's not like it's ever been a big deal for me, even before that immortality thing," she said, still talking to the air.

Almost absently she pulled one of the red roses from the bunch and twirled it in her fingers.

"Even when I was little I thought that everyone was making a fuss out of nothing," she said, "When you turn seven years seven months and seven days, now that's a big deal. Not much else. Never even got the cake thing."

Why did the roses bother her so much then? It wasn't like she hadn't known that they were coming. It wasn't even that she didn't like people making a fuss. Whenever she had gotten gifts in the past she had smiled and put them away. She had been okay with it, just not excited. Now, things were different for some reason.

She put the rose down. There was the possibility that it wasn't really the rose's fault. George and her hadn't seen each other on her birthday in over a decade. He hadn't known it was her birthday then, but that had been the last time. It had been the last time for a very good reason, one that she was all too aware of.

Bianca had been an idiot to accept his offer of dinner during a job in England. She had been trained and was then in her 'seventies'. She was perfectly aware of where dinner could lead. The best outcome was that he'd go away feeling uncomfortable around her. The absolute worst was that it could lead to another.

So it had made her upset sometimes that she kept doing it, though she had made sure that he didn't know that. She kept going back and this had been going on for months. What was worse was that she didn't even understand why she was doing this. George was a powerful sorcerer alright but she knew that that had nothing to do with her attraction.

At first she tried to find a logical explanation. Robin had died a few months ago, a shocking blow to her psyche. After that she was left feeling a touch vulnerable. That had worked for the first month. After that she had been left with trying to figure out the real reason why she had done this.

The truth of the matter was partially that she was lonely. The other was that something inside of her was starting to snap. It was her self-control, something that had been hammered into her. Bianca had prided herself on stepping out of life for those years. Now her soul was struggling to reenter while her mind told her not to. It was inevitable that something would break. She'd just assumed it would be her heart, not his.

Of course she'd been wrong, like she was about so much in her life. That night where they had walked through London together she mentioned her plans to return to America the next day. Her report was expected and there was a developing situation in Canada. She had hoped that this would be a clean break for the both of them, and had been steeling herself to go through with it. Bianca wasn't going to leave him hanging on a long distance relationship that might or might not work. She wasn't that kind of person.

George had already known. As a Prime back then George had been well aware of what was going on. Even as an apprentice he had showed an acute eye for information gathering. Thus he had risen through the ranks. He'd never gotten lazy with his skills. That was why he had planned things when he had.

"So why exactly are we going onto the London Eye?" she asked, looking uncertainly at the towering Ferris wheel-like structure in the middle of the city, "I thought it was shut down this time of night."

"It is," he said, getting in and grinning, "But I've got connections."

"I bet you do," she'd replied as they got in.

For a while they had simply chatted as it went around. As soon as they got to the top it froze up, displaying its skyline.

"You're doing this," she said.

"Yes," George had replied proudly.

"You know I'm kind of scared of heights right?" asked Bianca, turning away from him and peering out the glass.

"Yeah," said George sheepishly, "But it was the only way that I could think to do this. Well, it wasn't the only, but it was the best."

"What are you-?" she started, turning back to him.

While her back was turned he'd gotten down on one knee. The small velvet black box that he had was proffered to her. With the skyline behind them and him doing things classically it looked like a card. No, it was like a fairy tale. As he started to open the box a million ideas crashed in her head.

The first was that she couldn't do this. There was no way that she could marry him with a clean conscious. Immortals couldn't have children due to their unchanging biology. He'd have to be content with her or adopt. Even then she'd just end up watching both him and their adopted child die one day, maybe even of old age. All during that her skin would remain smooth and she would look thirty as they aged. It wouldn't be fair.

Then a sneaky thought had come into her head. What was fair in this world? George wasn't an idiot. He was well aware that that was what awaited him if he pursued her. He was prepared for this. If she loved him back, and she had, then she should take a chance. Who knew? Her curse could be lifted in a decade and that would still be plenty of time for them.

An acceptance was on her lips when she shook her head. Bianca forced her hand forward and closed the box that he was opening. She didn't want to see the ring. She didn't want to see how it could be. Most of all she didn't want to see the hurt on his face, but that she had to see. Accordingly she looked at him and took in that look of anguish. After everything that they had been through together she owed him that much.

"I can't," she said, "I can't."

"But-"

"You know why I can't. Please don't," she said, not wanting to hear what he wanted to say, not being able to bear it, "We both know it's better this way."

His face contorted.

"I know no such thing."

"I do," she said, "I can assure you that. We're not some Balthazar and Veronica in those stories from the Incantus. We won't make it."

"Bia, don't-" he started.

"George," said Bianca, regretting that she'd told him her real name. "We can't. This was a mistake. It was wonderful but it was a mistake….we have to put this behind us, pretend that it never happened."

"I'm not going to-"

"I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm sorry, but we have to be friends from now on. You know why, and you know I'm right."

George didn't say anything. The eye started to move again though, and she took that as acquiescence. As she got out of the car though he said;

"Bia?"

She turned back to him.

"I won't call you that again," he said, "And I hope you'll forget what I'm about to say, but I think that I need to say it."

He had gotten up and turned his back to her.

"An associate of mine once called you a siren for your enemies. You drew them in somehow and destroyed them when they came close. I never knew that it would be true for those you _loved_ as well."

George faced her and gave a bitter smile. Fighting tears she'd walked away. The next morning she'd left, not to see him again for a year when he became the Grand High Sorcerer. Despite what he'd said she'd never forgotten. Bianca was only happy that she had been given him a chance to prove him wrong.

Smiling she picked up the flower off of the table again. Bringing it to her nose she inhaled it deeply. Things were different now, much different. So much had happened between then and now that she had only been able to thank her lucky stars. Still, the flowers might be overdoing it.

Ashley scurried in with a folder of papers. She put them on Bianca's desk and turned to go.

"One moment," said Bianca.

Her apprentice stopped in rapt attention.

"Your journeyman ceremony is next week right?"

"Yes."  
"Hm," said Bianca thoughtfully, "Then I'll need you to book me an airline ticket for the week after next."

"Where to?"

She grinned.

"London, England."


	41. Prompt 17: Cookie

17. Cookie

"Sure we're supposed to be doing this?" asked Julian, looking at the jar of cookies curiously.

"Nope," his sister answered cheerfully, "You ready to though?"

"Yup."

Julian grinned. Many of the Merlinians had fallen under the impression that he was the one who orchestrated all of the trouble. He was only a little offended by that, and not for the reason one would think. Tabitha deserved the credit. He was just the tools she used to implement her many schemes.

They'd be turning thirteen that year and they had plans that were considerably more important than just stealing sweets planned. It was a big year for them after all, and they should shake things up a bit. That was why Tabitha, whom he affectionately referred to as Tabby, had come up with a few new schemes. They would never know what hit them.

Being the taller of the two Julian pulled himself up onto the counter. He reached out with his fingertips. Things would be much easier if he was a combative sorcerer like everyone else. Not that he didn't like patching people up. It made him feel clever, like he was putting together a difficult puzzle. Being combative would've made him able to perform levitating tricks on things bigger than pencils.

With some difficulty he got the jar down. Handing it to Tabitha she gripped it and peered inside.

"Oreos," she said.

"That'll work."

The two of them walked out of the kitchen area and into the alchemy room. No one ever went in there except the two of them, so they knew they'd be safe for a while. A few cushions were positioned in the only unsigned corner and they sat there. They both reached into the jar and pulled out several of the cookies. Julian started to shove his into his mouth. Tabitha took them apart carefully before licking off the icing.

"School's starting up in a couple of weeks," she said.

"Don't remind me," snorted Julian between mouthfuls, "They think they can teach me about anatomy. I actually **know **what a femur looks like, not those pansy drawings. They don't know nuthin' compared to me."

"No," agreed Tabitha.

She examined her Oreo and licked up the icing. Smacking her lip she examined the two halves of the cookie that she was left with. Julian knew she didn't like them very much and found himself hoping that she'd give at least one to him. No such luck though. Nibbling on the chocolate cookie she said;

"We're gonna be journeymen soon," she said, "In around two years. Something like that."

"That's not that soon."

"Seeing how we've been doin' this since we're seven I think it is," she said, sniffing, "But maybe we'll get accelerated like Ashley."

"Ashley's eighteen," Julian said, reaching for more cookies.

"Yeah, but she started when she was thirteen. Some sort of prodigy," said Tabitha, "I should've gotten some milk to go with these."

Julian shrugged. He didn't much care whether or not there was milk. He had the cookies and that was all that mattered to him.

"And in another month that Dave guy is going to become a Master," Tabitha said, "Officially. Everyone's goin' up 'round here."

Looking tired she leaned back against the cushions.

"Everyone's gonna be in the Incantus, if they're not already," she said.

"We're in the Incantus," said Julian smugly.

"In the background."

"Still in there."

Tabitha sighed and got up. She started pacing around the room. Julian watched her as he helped himself to some more cookies.

"Doesn't it ever make you feel weird?"

"What Tabby?" frowned Julian.

She waved her arms around.

"Think about it," she said, "There's Ms. Lawrence. She's in charge and she's been in the Incantus for several years. She's famous. I'm not even going to get into the Blakes. Then there's that Prime Merlinan guy-"

"Dave," said Julian.

"Yeah, him," Tabitha said, obviously affronted at being interrupted.

He didn't mind so much. Tabitha could get awful self-important sometimes. Besides, he liked Dave. The guy had been around so much that he was practically a fixture. When people went out with him they tended to come back with less injuries. While Julian liked patching people up he also hated having to do it in a life-threatening situation. Dave prevented that. Hence he liked Dave.

"Anyway, so they're all big and legendary," she said, "And Ashley's some sort of prodigy. Craig's famous for finding out how to detect magic with machines. Michael's doing a lot of outworking right now for other branches. He's supposed to be some sort of master delegate among sorcerers his age. Or ones in their teens anyway. Something like that."

She sat back down and chomped on a cookie.

"And if that English guy survives whatever Ms. Lawrence is having him do he'll be famous too," she said, spraying crumbs.

"What does that mean?"

"Oh come on," Tabitha said, "You can't tell me you haven't tried to eavesdrop on what they're talking about."

"I have," said Julian indignantly, "But all I ever hear is wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-wah."

"Yeah, she's dampening the sound magically," said Tabitha, "So she's desperate to make sure it's not being talked about. So that's something big right there."

He put on an expression that made him look pensive, or he liked to think it did. Grabbing his ankles he started rocking back and forth.

"Why does this matter?" he asked.

She reached for another cookie miserably.

"You don't see it?"

"I do too. Now tell me what it is I'm supposed to be seeing."

With a sigh she said;

"We're being trained by really famous people. We're growing up around famous people That means that people will expect us to get famous too, to really make a big impact on the world. Otherwise we're stuck playing second fiddle. It's like being the teacher's pet or something. You have to keep on being it."

His mouth dropped open.

"In English please?" he demanded.

His sister glared at him.

"Fine. I'll put it in terms you understand then. It's Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles," she snapped.

"I love that show!"

"I know. I need to take the remote away from you," said Tabitha.

"You can take the remote when you pry it from my cold dead fingers," he said, his eyes narrowing.

"I intend to. But anyway, everyone around us is Leonardo and Raphael but we're just Michelangelo and Donatello."

"They're awesome though. Got the whole staff and nun chucks thin going."

"That's not what I meant. The other two are the leaders and they're just there for comic relief."

Realization dawned.

"I get it."

"Good."

Neither of them said anything for a while.

"But they're awesome," he said again.

"Leave it! I shouldn't have used that metaphor-"

"No, I mean they're all really cool," he said, "But interesting in different ways."

"Are you going to do that whole unique snowflake thing?"

"You're interrupting," he said, glaring at his sister.

"You do it all the time."

"Well stop," said Julian, "I was trying to say that if you just smooshed them all into one character then they'd be really boring. But if you have them all being different then they're interesting. In fact, Raphael's and Leo are kinda cooler because Donny and Mike are there and the other way around."

Tabitha looked at him, puzzled. He gave her a lopsided grin. Slowly she grinned back at him, taking another cookie out of the jar. When she was finished with it she licked her fingers, looking thoughtful. Then her grin became wider. Julian was sure that she was going to say something when they heard a shout from the kitchen;

"JULIAN! TABITHA! WHERE ARE THE OREOS?"

Julian grabbed the cookie jar and they scrambled to their feet.  
"Why do they assume it's us?" she asked.

"'cause it was."

"They don't know that," said Tabitha, waving away his words, "Now come on, let's get out of here."


	42. Prompt 63: Fairy

63. Fairy

"She's real little," said Tabitha, running alongside the baby carriage and peering inside simultaneously.

"Are they all that little?" asked Julian, "Look at those little fingers. I was never that small."

"Right."

"My fingers were never that little," said Julian, proudly displaying his long and thin fingers.

"Of course they were," his sister said.

"What makes you so sure Tabby?"

The girl tossed her head proudly.

"Seen it on T.V," she said, "You can learn lots of things from T.V. if you don't just watch turtles with swords."

Veronica shook her head at the two twins who had somehow managed to become her apprentices. She shouldn't have worried about bringing Lorna with her. They were very talkative, but they didn't seem inclined to hold her and perhaps drop her. They were regarding her as a doll, but a very fragile one.

"You like that show too!"

"It's not all I watch though."

"Quiet, both of you," she said, stopping the baby carriage, "You should be taking your shoes off about now. And why do we do that?"

"Shows respect," answered Tabitha primly.

"That's right."

Regretfully they bent down to undo their shoelaces. Veronica was wearing flats so she just kicked them off. Then, with great care she picked up Lorna, who looked at her with big eyes. She was a quiet child, not prone to crying every time she was woken up. This was a mercy really; it allowed her and Balthazar to sleep during the night.

Due to the fact that Balthazar was troll-hunting with Dave he hadn't taken Lorna with him that day. He had been scared enough to take her into the lab, a situation that was actually dangerous made him look faint. Veronica, who had just been going into Central Park for more herb gathering, had taken her daughter with her without complaint.

"We're done!" announced Julian.

Veronica nodded and shifted Lorna. With her temporarily free hand she made the shoes and carriage invisible. Both of her apprentices looked at the invisible items with interest. They'd be begging her to teach them it soon. Since they were starting to come along nicely she might. They were very eager students after all.

Jerking her head in the direction of the small wood they followed. This time they wouldn't be coming into contact with the dryads. She'd had the slight misfortune to run into Terra when she was pregnant. The dryad had immediately picked up on her state and started squealing and running around. Actually showing her the child would probably make her faint out of joy.

She looked down at the child in question. Lorna had gotten big enough to put in dresses, ones that Veronica herself had made. Her hair was coming in and she was growing nicely. If she didn't know better she'd say that her eyes were changing to a darker blue. There was no doubt about whose child she was now.

Soon they'd be shipping her off to school and watching the boys chase after her. A shadow of worry crossed Veronica's mind at that. It wasn't like growing up to be beautiful had done her any good. It wasn't as if it even mattered to her what her child looked like. Yet, she had nearly cried when she'd seen that she'd had his eyes. Those eyes were the fulfillment of a hope that had been born centuries before.

Satisfied that their things were hidden she shifted Lorna's weight again. Then they walked into the forest. The twins were trying desperately not to make so much noise. It wasn't exactly their forte, but it showed respect. Besides, if their mouths were shut then they would be able to search for herbs more effectively.

That day in particular they were looking for Mandrake roots. There was an antidote she wanted to teach them to make that required it. The fresher the roots the better, so she'd decided to have a 'field day' so to speak. She didn't need to check if the forest had any before the trip. Any forest that sported dryads would certainly have Mandrake roots.

"I see one!" Julian announced.

The boy scurried over to where two faint brown lines were sticking out of the ground. His sister ran over to help them and they took shovels out of their pockets. One spell that she had taught them in preparation was how to shrink things down. They had been woefully unprepared as apprentices went, but Veronica recognized that this kind of magic wasn't what they were meant for.

She herself had had more of a talent for healing. However, Merlin had insisted that she study everything. Veronica had excelled at it, but sometimes she'd wished that he hadn't expected her to be exactly like the other two. For the job she had to do it was necessary, and most of her healing had been self-taught. As they all soon found out someone having healing skills had been necessary as well.

They finished digging and held up the grubby root triumphantly.

"Good job. That's a big one," she said, hoping that this was an appropriately encouraging remark.

When they grinned she saw that it was. Tabitha pulled a large jar out of her pocket and they put it in. Then they got up and resumed their search. Julian seemed to be better than his sister at finding the roots. She tried to make up for this by digging them up faster and keeping better track at the amount in their jar.

She had just corrected Julian on his latest mistake of the count when he spotted the biggest patch yet. They ran over and started digging. Veronica watched them as they worked, cradling her daughter. Lorna had fallen asleep again, something that she did rather frequently. Perhaps it was genetic, just like her eyes.

"Need a little help on this one," called Julian.

"It doesn't want to leave home," Tabitha said, obviously frustrated.

Her eyes flickered back over to her apprentices. They really were having trouble. Too many of the roots had started to twine together to form one massive one. Sighing she set her daughter down gently on the grass. She saw no harm in it. She'd only be gone a moment and Lorna was very close to her.

Kneeling down she helped them pry the root from the ground. True to Tabitha's word it really didn't want to leave the ground. Eventually, with all three of them working together, it did. It was enormous and the twins were absolutely fawning over it. Tabitha declared that it was about as big as six at once while Julian thought that it was more like four. The real count was probably five, but Veronica felt that it would be wrong to spoil that for them.

She had just leaned back for a bit of a rest when she heard it. Her ears had become abnormally sensitive since becoming a mother. Lorna had given a small cry. Veronica got up, thinking that her daughter had woken up. Normally Lorna didn't cry, so she supposed that she must not like being on the ground. What she saw instead scared her.

A small fairy had landed on Lorna's stomach. It was female judging by its gown of stitched petals and its flowing golden hair. The wings were no longer moving, except to twitch every now and then. The fairy was looking at the child with an odd air of circumspection that made Veronica's stomach churn.

Her mind flipped through all the information she had been taught about them. She didn't really know much, they were secretive. Even Bianca had only vaguely known that there were a few in the forest, but she'd never actually come across one. Neither had Veronica for that matter. Merlin had told her that they were wise creatures, knowing the past and the future.

That wasn't important next to some of the other things her mind was telling her about the small creature. She'd heard all those stories about fairies stealing children when she was younger. No one knew what they did with them, but she'd heard enough about changelings to trust the fairy near her daughter.

Slowly she approached. The fairy turned and looked at her, cocking her head and smiling slyly.

"I should warn you," Veronica said, drawing herself up to her full height, "I am a sorceress of the 777th degree and I will make your life hell if you-"

The fairy giggled and shook her head. Her wings took her into the air so that she hovered right before Veronica's face. The fairy was still laughing but she kept shaking her head. One of her hands rested reassuringly on Veronica's nose before she flitted off again. Veronica took a step towards her child only to see that the fairy had returned.

"What's it doing?" asked Tabitha.

"No sudden movements," said Veronica, erring on the side of caution.

With a much sweeter smile the fairy bent down and kissed Lorna in the middle of her forehead. With a merry wave it flitted off. She hurried to her child and picked her up. Where the fairy had kissed her a small silver mark appeared. Even as Veronica watched the mark faded, absorbed by her skin.

"Was she gonna hurt her?" asked Julian, walking up to them.

Veronica drew Lorna closer and shook her head.

"No, no she wasn't."

Always curious Tabitha joined her brother.

"Well what did she want then?"

For a moment she didn't answer. Trying to be tactful, but also displaying her impatience, Tabitha said;

"What did she do?"

Taking a deep breath Veronica looked up.

"She blessed her," she said softly.

The twins looked at each other.

"Is that good?" asked Tabitha.

"Yes," Veronica said, "Good but…rare and…very unusual."

She took another look at her daughter.

"I think we've got enough roots," she said, "Let's head back now."


	43. Prompt 39: Water

39. Water

"This is not dignified," Drake grumbled.

Ashley looked at him.

"What is?" she asked, punching him on the shoulder affectionately, "You're going to have to learn that this stuff isn't glamorous."

"Oh, trust me; I've learned that already."

She placed her hands on her hips and faced him down. They were in the harbor, and in the restricted area too. Bianca had assigned Ashley the task of finding out why the tides were coming in late. Normally it would be a freak of nature but Craig had picked up some magical readings. For her assistant Bianca had also suggested that she take along 'that weirdo with the hair'. Ashley could only assume that she had meant Drake.

"It'll teach him a lesson about the 'Merlinian' experience," Bianca had said, leaning back in her chair, "He might need it sooner than he thinks."

With those delightfully cryptic words Bianca had dismissed her. She didn't generally do that, which was why she couldn't get it out of her head. Unlike what she'd heard about Balthazar Bianca believed in just telling people things; whether or not they'd like it. The vagueness made her a touch uneasy.

Life had been strange enough for her already. College had started up a month ago and she was struggling to adapt. By some stroke of luck Becky was in one of her classes, so that helped. Dave had also given her the generous offer of tutoring. That was good. For a Merlinian she was more interested in history than Physics. It was easier for her than many other things, but she still needed help with it from time to time.

Now, on top of that, she was making her way along the coastal line with her boyfriend complaining behind her. It was due, in part, to their attire. She had dressed in her outdoorsy type of clothes, sturdy clothes that probably wouldn't tear. Her shoes were waterproof boots and she'd put her hair back in a ponytail. Over this she had slung her quiver, disguising it along with her bow while they made their way down there.

Drake had slung on his normal shoes and jeans. Sand and rocks were getting into his shoes, as he told her every five minutes. And with every five minutes she was tempted to either ditch him or hit him. Ashley hadn't quite figured out which of these options were more appealing in the end.

"I'm tired."

"You're always tired," she snapped.

"Now I'm really tired," said Drake.

"Are you even looking for magical currents anymore?"

"Ask me again in the morning."

"It's already two a.m," she said, "It'll be light in a few hours. At this rate the sun will come up, and then everyone will know what we were doing down here. Or in the very least we'll get arrested."

"Tell that to someone who cares," Drake moaned, flopping down onto the ground and stretching out.

She stared at him in disbelief.

"You are not sleeping like that," she said.

"Watch me."

Ashley started to take deep breathes. She had to figure out a way around this. There had been a reason why she had been trusted with this instead of Dave, who probably would've been better at just about any mission really. She had to keep control and somehow manage to get the job done.

So she had to quash this urge for revenge. Or did she? There were ways to get him back and still have him do his job. Very slowly she let go of her latest breath, blowing it into the chilly night air. Then, deliberately she forced herself to sit down next to him. He half-opened one eye and looked at her warily.

"We can rest for a bit I suppose," she said, "But you're not falling asleep."

"No guarantees."

"Hm," she said, leaning over him so that some of her hair brushed his face, "I suppose not. You're kind of cute when you're sleeping."

"Only when I'm sleeping?" he asked her, grinning.

"Sometimes when you're awake too," admitted Ashley, "Especially if you're not talking."

She swatted the hair away from Drake's face. His eyes followed the hair that was slowly being taken off his face. Then, with great care, she started leaning down. He pushed his head up a touch. Ashley could feel his breath on her face but she let herself get a little closer. Then she jerked her head up abruptly.

"That's enough resting. Let's go."

Jumping to her feet she saw a stunned Drake in her wake. She tossed her hair.

"Well?" she asked sweetly.

He kept staring at her.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

His expression of shock eroded into one of disbelief. As he got unsteadily to his feet he muttered under his breath;

"Minx."

She grinned at him as he followed behind her.

"Not nice to do that you know," mumbled Drake.

"You do it all the time."

"Yeah…but not when we're in that position."

Suddenly she felt embarrassed of what had happened. She hadn't even thought about in that particular context. Heat flowed to her face. Noticing her flush Drake snickered.

"Hey, your face matches your hair."

Turning on her heel she faced him, her feet splashing in the water.

"You know what? I think I'm going to just do this by myself," she said, "You're just a distraction and you're going to get someone hurt if you keep doing this stuff."

"Darlin', that's harsh."

"But true!"

"Not isn't," he said.

"It is," she insisted, "I know your education sucked, but you were trained for some sort of group situation, right? Bianca made sure of that. You have to watch for your teammates and if you can't even cooperate with your girlfriend than things are going to go downhill damn quickly."

His face darkened.

"You'd best not be talking about what you don't understand."

Her face burned, but not with embarrassment. It was with anger now. Of course she understood. Hadn't they had this conversation? Hadn't she told him about her parents? One of her hands turned into a fist. She tried to think of something biting, but was cut off when something wet grabbed onto her ankle.

Before she could look down she was dragged into the harbor. A pressure engulfed her, making her unable to move. Air was depreciating quickly with the added pressure. She thought she could make out furious eyes in the water, but she couldn't be sure. All the time it dragged her deeper and deeper.

Her hand went out to cast a spell. It was soon immobilized by the same pressure, which was increasing. She knew what it was now, a Kelpie. The pressure was like a giant anaconda, snaking around her and forcing the air out of her lungs. Panic started to set in, as did unconsciousness. Oh, this was **not **how she wanted to die.

When she woke up she was coughing water out of her lungs. Her wet hair was plastered to her forehead. She wasn't dead, death didn't come with chills from the water and pains in her chest. She was fairly sure of that. Ashley also had a sneaking suspicion that Drake wouldn't be there. Not yet anyway.

"You okay sweetheart?" he asked, shaking her a little, "I didn't know how to do CPR and I thought-"

"I'm fine, just don't shake me anymore," said Ashley weakly, "You kill it?"

"Yeah…"

"Good," she said, coughing up some more water.

His eyes locked onto hers before he clasped her to his chest tightly.

"Drake?" she sputtered, "I think you need to let me go…need to breathe…"

When he let her go he mashed his lips roughly against hers. Drake pulled her away for a minute and she breathed out.

"Can't do that right now, but it was pretty good…" she said, her breathing becoming uneven, "I still need to breathe…"

"Fine luv," he said, "Fine…"

He brushed her hair away from her face. Drake kissed her on her forehead, his nails digging into her shoulder. She looked at him strangely.

"Spooked me there," he mumbled.

"Oh, sorry."

"Don't apologize I shouldn't have been…" his voice trailed off, "Anyway, how are you feeling?"

"Like I've nearly been strangled," she said, "I'm not going to be walking for another few minutes. Can we-"

"Rest?" he finished, settling himself down next to her, "You know what?"

He kissed her on the lips, more gently than before.

"I suppose we can," he said, "But you're not falling asleep."


	44. Prompt 45: Jousting

45. Jousting

"Dave, get out!"

They stood in the living room of her apartment. Dorothy, her dog, had trotted out and hidden in the hallway. She never liked it around loud noises. Thunder scared her, and that was far off. How much more did shouting and screaming scare her. She was still a fairly young dog, like a small scared child.

"Becky," Dave pleaded, "I was just trying to-"

"Help, yeah," she snapped, "All you ever want to do is help."

For a minute Dave wavered between anger and conciliatory gestures. He settled on conciliatory.

"Listen, I don't mean to-"

"I get it," snapped Becky, "I get it."

"I don't think that you do," Dave said, "I know that you're going through a really rough patch. I just figured that you might want someone to talk to you and help you out with this. That's all."

Becky folded her arms, her nails digging into her flesh.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I might not want your help?"

"I-"

"Out!" she shouted again.

A look of hurt crossed Dave's face before turning into anger.

"Fine!" he yelled.

"Fine!"

Turning on his heel he stormed out of the apartment. Becky breathed heavily, trying to keep herself angry until the door closed. The minute it did she started crying. It wasn't a lot of tears, nothing compared to what she had cried a month or so previously. Still, it needed to be done. She wasn't willing to have Dave there this time though.

Miserable she walked into her room and collapsed on her bed. There were no more tears left and besides, she wasn't feeling like she should be crying anymore. Everything that had happened since she had switched her major had been awful. Dave had been supportive of her, constantly cutting corners so she would have help if she needed it. Every day she saw the toll that was taking on him. He had enough on his plate without having to worry about her too.

Every time she encouraged him to focus more on his life he wouldn't hear it. Dave cared too much and it was ending up hurting the both of them. That day had been her latest attempt to get him to let her try to figure things out on her own. Things had been said that she hadn't meant, and in the end she'd ordered him out.

Dorothy trotted up. She jumped on the bed and licked Becky's face.

"Hey girl," she mumbled, "You and your mother were always so good at knowing when I was upset."

Whining Dorothy licked her face again.

"Come here," said Becky, pulling the golden lab to her chest.

Not even complaining Dorothy snuggled in. Feeling completely exhausted She lay there, eventually drifting off to sleep. When she did wake up she found that she was in the middle of a crowd. A long, thin fence had been erected and there were stands on either side of the field. People were in the stands, yelling and screaming.

"Fancy meeting you here."

Becky turned around and was confronted with a smiling Nimue.

"I should've known," sighed Becky.

"I'm meeting you much more often than your grandmother," Nimue said, "I think that that's a good sign, don't you think?"

"A good sign?"

"It means you show every sign of being very powerful," said Nimue, "You're such a strong receiver. Have you ever considered doing some calling?"

Before Becky could answer two trumpets blared over the crowd. There was silence until a herald started reading off titles.

"I never liked tournaments much," said Nimue, "You can see that."

She pointed her hand over to a box. A young woman, dressed in cloth of gold was seated, her face sporting a bruise and looking completely miserable. Becky could recognize it as a younger Nimue since her hair was still a vibrant red. Her father was sitting next to her, looking pale and worn. A few guards were located around them, and there were no other people in that particular box.

"I'm eighteen," she said, "I'm going to meet Merlin later on today. He'll be going to my father to get a new caster made. I'll be there. My father never let me out of his sight."

Nimue smiled faintly.

"We'll be strangers passing in the night so to speak."

Becky watched as the two knights charged at each other. There was a splintering of wood and one man was knocked off of his horse. The crowd cheered.

"I never liked it because I could hear all the noise, but I never knew what was going on," she said, "So it kept going over it in my head. It's not like it was such a bad thing, but it never made me happy until I met him."

"Hm, very romantic," Becky said, leaning against the fence post, "I'm glad that it worked out for you."

A slight frown creasing her features Nimue tilted her head.

"I'm sensing something might be wrong."

"There is," said Becky, "My…I…"

"Oh," said Nimue knowledgeably, "You're having trouble with your love. I've been there."

Shaking her head in disbelief Becky said;

"I doubt it."

"And why's that?" asked Nimue.

"Come on," Becky said, "You talk about him like he was the best thing that ever happened to you-"

"He was."

"That's what I'm getting at. Everything points at you two being Romeo and Juliet-"

"Who?"

"Very romantic," she corrected herself, "Very in-love. Very…very."

"I see," said Nimue.

"So I highly doubt you had any real troubles," said Becky, watching as the injured knight was pulled off the field.

Nimue was silent. She drummed her fingers on the fence post.

"He was nearly two decades older than me," said Nimue harshly, "You think that's something that can be waved away?"

She was taken back.

"I assumed that you wouldn't-"

"To me?" asked Nimue, "Of course it didn't matter to me. Did it matter to him? Yes it mattered to him. I wasn't really aware of it, but I was young and beautiful. He was a powerful sorcerer with a penchant for making enemies. How could you think that that wouldn't be enough to foster some sort of discord, some sort of unease?"

Two more knights took up weapons and entered the lists.

"I was blind," Nimue said, "And he was protective. You think that that helped things either? We loved each other very much but we had so many problems. Most of them were external, but our personalities clashed with each other. That was the price of us both being strong-willed people."

She looked at Becky, or at least inclined her head towards her.

"Sometimes it was a battle and sometimes I cried. But the thing was if we weren't strong-willed we wouldn't have been attracted to each other in the first place," she said, "And for everything it was worth it. It's still worth it."

Nimue gripped the rails. The knights charged each other, neither of them managing to dislodge the other. They charged again and one went down.

"It's still going to be worth it when I get killed in a few years," said Nimue, "I've seen that and I wish I didn't. But that's how it's going to be Becky."

She looked over at the younger woman.

"I understand," said Becky, wrapping her arms around herself, "At least I think I do. Things are a little insane right now."

"They will rarely be sane."

"Alright," Becky said, "I'm going to have to apologize. I don't think I did irreparable damage, but…"

Sighing Becky closed her eyes.

"If he loves you then he's going to forgive you," said Nimue, "It's what people in love do."

"I shouldn't have to ask for forgiveness," Becky said, "I shouldn't have done anything to be forgiven in the first place."

"That's how it's going to be," said Nimue, "We're all going to need a little forgiveness from time to time."

The trumpets blared again. Becky nodded as the latest two knights charged at each other and listened as the crowd screamed.

"I suppose we do," she said.


	45. Prompt 85: Door

85. Door

Becky knocked on the door. Veronica answered it, smiling broadly.

"I'm so glad you could make it," she said, "This must be very last minute and I didn't mean-"

"I know how these things happen," said Becky, stepping inside, "Is there anything I should know?"

"Well, you know that Lorna's a bit of a fussy eater," confessed Veronica, "You were here last Saturday, weren't you?"

She couldn't help but Grimace. Lorna hadn't liked the canned baby food and had taken to throwing it across the room. In every other facet of her life she was the best-behaved baby that Becky had ever seen. When it came to eating food, or rather having it fed to her, she refused to let it near her mouth.

"But you don't' have to worry about that," Veronica assured her; "She's already been fed and put to sleep. I just don't feel right leaving her alone."

Veronica cast a worried glance to the room that Becky knew had been converted into a nursery. She supposed that it was something carried over from the Medieval ages. When so many children fell to disease or sickness it was easy to worry about your own. It was still easy for such things to happen today.

"It's been awhile since I baby-sat," said Becky, "But I think I've got it."

"I'm glad," said Veronica, grabbing her coat, "I'm not sure how much we should pay you for this-"

"Don't worry about that," said Becky, waving away Veronica's suggestion, "You've done so much for me that this…just don't worry about it."

"Thank you Becky," Veronica said, "I hope that Balthazar has a good reason for calling me away."

"I'm sure he does," Becky said.

With a smile Veronica touched the necklace that she'd never willingly let leave her throat since Balthazar had given it to her. Then she was out the door, moving quickly. Becky shook her head and went over to the door of Lorna's nursery. Very carefully she opened up the door and went inside.

Just like Veronica had said Lorna was asleep. Her mother had very tenderly tucked her in but Lorna had pushed the blanket into a wrinkled mess. Becky smiled at her over the bars of the crib. Lorna looked like a little cherub like that. It was hard to believe that she'd been blessed by the faeries and was the daughter of two of the most powerful Merlinians in history. That was life for you.

"Such a little thing," Becky mused.

Without another word Becky left the room. She left the door open just a crack in case of emergencies. Then she started browsing the book shelves that lined the living room for reading material. One would expect that Balthazar and Veronica would have old books, but that was untrue. Balthazar had read many of the books when they had come out, and Veronica was eager for what was new in the world.

On the shelves she found _Lorna Doone_ though. From what she'd heard that had been the inspiration behind the name of their daughter. Smiling she picked it up and began reading. The night was quiet and the book was good. However, she found that she was having problems concentrating on the text.

It had been three days since her fight with Dave. She hadn't seen him since. Becky had hoped that she would be able to apologize to him before then. No such luck. Instead she was stuck wondering when she'd see him next. With thoughts like these she felt downright relieved when Lorna started crying quietly.

She put the book down and headed to the nursery. Becky picked up Lorna, along with her blanket, and started rocking her.

"Come on, nothing going on," soothed Becky, "You hungry? You were just fed. That's what I heard."

Lorna whimpered softly.

"Come on," said Becky, "Let's get you into the living room."

She sat down and shifted Lorna's position. The child squirmed in her hands. From what Veronica had said she was getting more and more insistent on things that she wanted and how she wanted them done. It sounded like Balthazar doted on her as well. Lorna would probably end up as Daddy's Little Girl and Mommy's Little Princess when she got older.

Becky could see that happening. At six years old Lorna would probably have both parents walking her to school. She wondered what her life would be like in a couple of years. Would she have graduated college? Would she still be living in New York? Would she be…married?

Sighing Becky stroked Lorna's face. The girl was asleep again, making Becky sigh in relief. Just then the door started to unlock.

"Your parent's home?" she asked Lorna.

The door opened and Dave stepped in.

.

.

.

"Hey Balthazar, I know it's late but I was wondering if you could translate this-"

He stopped dead. Becky looked up at him, holding Lorna in her arms. For a minute, in the light, she looked a little older than she was. Only Lorna's dark hair was visible so her eyes were obscured. She was completely wrapped in a blanket, making it hard to see the dress that he knew she'd be wearing.

For a minute the strangest feeling came over him. Becky was the one who was the seer, although she hadn't had many predictions lately, not him. Yet, he felt like he was looking into the future somehow. In that future it wasn't Balthazar and Veronica's child that Becky was holding; it was theirs.

Dave blinked and the moment was over. It wasn't like that was looking too likely at the moment. Clearing his throat he asked;

"Balthazar here?"

"No," said Becky, "Veronica's out too. I'm here babysitting."

"Oh," he said, feeling uncomfortable, "I'll just go then."

He turned and put his hand on the doorknob.

"Wait," Becky said.

Dave looked over his shoulder at her. She swallowed hard for a minute before looking down at the bundle in her arms.

"Just wait," she said, "I…I need to put Lorna back, but if you give me a minute then…just wait. And…and please don't go out the door."

Every single nerve in his body told him to run for it.

"Stay with me?" she asked.

Feeling a lump rise in his throat Dave nodded. Becky hurried out of the room. He heard a few movements in Lorna's nursery before Becky reappeared.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking in the past few days."

His breath caught in his throat. That was the one line he didn't want to hear.

"I just want to say that I'm sorry about what happened the other day," she said, swallowing hard.

Dave shoved his hands into his pockets so she wouldn't be able to see how nervous he was. He looked down and exhaled slowly.

"It's okay. We don't have to talk about it."

"It's not okay, and we do need to talk about it," Becky said, moving forward and putting her hand on his face.

He looked up fractionally.

"I'm not trying to push you away," she said, "It's just…I don't want to be the one to weigh you down."

"I was just-" he started.

"Trying to help," she finished softly, "I understand. But Dave, you've got a life too. I can't make this relationship all about me. It's about both of us."

"But I don't want you hiding what you're feeling," he said.

"I won't," she assured him, cupping his face in her hands, "But you need to stop worrying about me all the time. There are more important things than what's happening with me going on-"

"What are you saying?"

"As insanely adorable as I find it, I can't be your sole focus in the relationship," she said, "It can't work like that."

"So what's it supposed to work like?" he asked, his voice a little bitter.

Becky smiled.

"Both of us trying to help each other," she said, "I can't take it all and you can't give it all. It's not fair to you and I'm sorry that I've been doing this to you for so long. But let me tell you something."

She pulled his head down until his forehead touched hers.

"I don't think I'm going to ever want anyone but you," she said, "So I'm willing to work on this, to give more and take less. You?"

He took his hands out of his pockets and held her close. Dave's hands rested in the small of her back. It felt so good to hold her again.

"Definitely," he said.

Smiling she tilted her head and kissed him.


	46. Prompt 41: Gargoyle

41. Gargoyle

"You know Balthazar," said Veronica, climbing up the steps with him laboriously, "When you told me it was urgent for some reason I assumed that it was…well…how to put this…**urgent**?"

He looked over his shoulder and smiled at his wife.

"I figured you could get someone to babysit. We do know an abundance of people," he said, "Who did you get anyway?"

"Becky."

"Hmm…she's having a fight with Dave right now…but I shouldn't think that that should matter in this circumstance. She'll do fine."

"How do you know that?" asked Veronica, surprised.

"He mopes when something goes wrong," snorted Balthazar, "Just sulks, can't concentrate, can't get anything done."

He frowned.

"He might be coming back to do some translation work," he said, "For all of his Physics smarts he can't learn languages to save his life."

"Should we-?"

"No, I'm sure they can handle their own problems," said Balthazar, "Besides, this is important."

"Do tell."

Balthazar grasped her hand and pulled her up the remaining stairs. The top of the Chrysler building was chilly and windy. Veronica wrapped her arms around herself in defense against the cold. He would've wrapped his arms around her as well but he had a job to do. He started to wave his hand in the air, the stone in his ring glowing.

His hand gripped hers tightly and they were moving through the air. Teleportation was difficult at the best of times. More than one person involved in the spell made things especially difficult. When they stopped moving they were in a place that was even colder than the top of the Chrysler building.

"I should've brought my winter jacket," she said, "Where are we?"

Smiling at her he put an arm around her shoulders.

"Do you remember the displacement spell that Merlin kept so close to him? Wouldn't teach it to us?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I remember telling you that he put it on the castle," he said, "And they shielded it from the world the minute that I left it?"

Veronica's eyes started to light up, but they looked anxious at the same time. He knew how she felt.

"I've been working on this for a long time," he said, "I thought that Dave would need someplace else to work as a Master, that lab won't last forever once he graduates, and we might need a place to train our daughter one day. Not to mention it's completely secure. I didn't want to get your hopes up, but at the same time…"

She clutched at his coat anxiously.

"Where are we?" she asked again, the look in her eyes showing that she already knew but she wanted him to say it.

He smiled and extended one of his hands. His ring lit up and a ball of light appeared there. Balthazar tossed it up in the air. The courtyard was lit up, illuminating the entire area perfectly. Every familiar stone was available to their eyes, every door and window was there, every step and uneven pavement.

"Balthazar," she murmured, tears falling from her eyes.

Veronica flung herself into his arms. He smiled and brushed his lips against her ear. Balthazar was old, older than anyone, human or otherwise, on earth. Sometimes it pressed down on him unbearably making him want to stay in bed and never get up. It was at times like these though, at times like these he felt like he was as young as he once was. He felt like an apprentice again, younger even than Dave was now.

"You're sure you can do this?" she asked, pulling away from him.  
"What?" he asked.

"Well," she said, looking up at the towering keep, "These walls hold so many memories after all."

Balthazar looked around. He had thought about the memories associated with the Keep, both good and bad. Over there was the corner where they'd had a fight with the Orkney brothers. That was the day he'd met the woman who was now his wife. There were scorch marks from a fire bolt that went bad.

There were windows that he'd climbed through on ropes made of sheets. He'd gotten his first fencing lesson from Horvath on the steps. Merlin had once told him that he was shaping up fine at the gate. Out of the corner of his eye he could just make out the stalls where they'd reigned up the horses to stop Guinevere's execution and gone on their long trips. And that was just the courtyard.

His eyes fell on a crumbling gargoyle by the gate. When he had first came to the castle there had been two there, keeping watch over the visitors. It was the first time that he and Horvath were out together outside of the main Keep that it had gone away. It had started when the two were at their most awkward stage of their friendship, far before things had turned sour for them.

Balthazar had just arrived from his family's castle. He had been a sullen boy, unwilling to be where he was. Horvath had been used to his position as Merlin's only apprentice. He had started to train at seven years, seven months, and seven days. He was far more advanced than Balthazar, and it was obvious that he resented having to share the spotlight with a second boy. It came out sometime in the glances, although Horvath was trying to restrain it.

They got to know each other through dares.

"I dare you to climb up there," Horvath said.

The then ten Balthazar looked up at the gargoyle at the top of the column.

"That looks kind of dangerous," Balthazar had said doubtfully, "Can't you just dare me to steal something sweet from the kitchen or-"

"Those are sissy dares," Horvath had said with a sweep of his hand, "But it's okay if you're scared. Just admit it."

Balthazar puffed himself up. No one was allowed to call him scared. Fixing Horvath with a haughty glare he had found a niche in the column. He used it to heave himself upwards. The next foothold was more difficult to find, but the Keep was very old and patchy. It hadn't been made for Merlin, he'd just been given it as a gift from the King.

Deciding not to look down he ascended. Balthazar was actually amazed at how good he was at what he was doing, even though he was feeling exhausted. He found himself thinking that perhaps he should do this more often. Climbing would be a good skill to have. Feeling very proud of himself he heaved himself up on the gargoyle.

His balance was precarious, but that was nothing for a young boy. Looking smug he called down to Horvath;

"Who's scared **now**?"

A cracking noise made him look down. The masonry was in very bad repair and the weight of a boy on the gargoyle was too much. Before Balthazar could even move the stone slipped out from under his feet. He scrambled for purchase but he fell along with the stone gargoyle down to the courtyard below.

Just as he was about to hit the flagstones he stopped. Balthazar could actually count the insects on it. Tilting his head he could see that Horvath was levitating him, sweat pouring off his face. Balthazar reoriented himself so when Horvath let go nothing was broken. That day Horvath had saved his life for the first time. He didn't know it then, but he'd have plenty of opportunities to return the favor.

Merlin had stormed out of the castle, alerted by the clamor caused by the falling masonry. Horvath had, squirming, explained. On hearing what had happened Merlin had said that he was glad that no one had been hurt. Then he had condemned them to extra chores for doing things in the first place.

It was while they scoured countless pots and pans that night that the two of them had become friends. That would be the norm for three more years until Veronica came into their lives. Nothing would quite be the same, Balthazar had expected that. Yet, he hadn't foreseen the consequences. In the end everything had shattered and fallen like that gargoyle on that day so many years ago.

"Balthazar?" asked Veronica.

He snapped back to the present.

"A lot of bad things happened here," he said, choosing his words with great care, "A lot. But…"

Balthazar smiled at her.

"A lot of good things happened here too though," Balthazar continued, "I met the three greatest people I'd ever know, and also the worst."

She didn't say anything. They both knew that that count included Horvath in both of the categories.

"So I can't see anything wrong with using this place again," he said, "It's its purpose. It…"

He looked over at the solitary gargoyle, and where the other one used to stand.

"It's a place for finding yourself I think, to figure out if you'll sink or swim, to fall and to see if anyone will catch you," he said, "And I want our daughter and Dave to know that about themselves."

His wife cuddled herself close to his chest.

"So do I."


	47. Prompt 56: Movie

56. Movie

It seemed odd to Dave that after a whole week of not talking to Becky, of having always just missed her, that now they had time for nothing but that. After such a declaration for her things were nothing if now awkward. Deep moments were always good in movies, but they tended to cut to something afterwards so as not to bore the audience with the fumbling for words afterwards.

They settled down on the couch after that. Dave didn't want to seem indelicate by leaving directly afterwards, and Becky had to babysit Lorna. So they sat there in an odd and somewhat uncomfortable silence. It was too early for either of them to go to sleep, and the fact that she was supposed to be babysitting came up again.

Her words were sticking in his mind. Perhaps he had been too intrusive in her business. It hadn't helped that he was always so nervous when he did it. Because of his therapy he had come out full of clinically proven advice. However, they weren't exactly tailored for every situation. He had been so worried about what would happen on the day when he ran out and gave some of his own. It would probably turn out horribly.

So maybe he had been interfering too much. He could pull back a little if that was what she wanted. Like Becky Dave would work on it. What they had was too good to just give up like that. He couldn't picture himself without her either. This idea had given rise to a new and somewhat worrying thought.

When he had seen her with Lorna he had felt a little wistful. Becky was, without a doubt, the girl he wanted to marry and have a family with. The two of them were young, that was certain, but he'd heard somewhere that when you know you know. It wasn't like there would be any real time that would be better for them than another time. With magic and things…it didn't matter when he picked a time. Any time was good enough.

He looked over her out of the corner of her eye. She looked back at him and smiled oddly.

"You know," Becky said, resting her head on his shoulder, "You see all this stuff in movies about true love and stuff. It was always more instant than this."

"Huh?" he asked, jarred out of his own thoughts.

She laughed.

"You know, like in a Disney movie," she said.

"Really? I didn't watch many growing up."

"More's the pity," she sniffed, "But in those the prince meets the princess, they fall in love. Everything after that is just them making sure that the audience gets their money worth with an hour and a half."

"How does _Toy Story_ fit the model?"

"Let's leave that out for now," she said, "And that was a Pixar Disney collaboration. Doesn't count in this conversation, none of them do. But love doesn't happen gradually in those movies."

"That's why it's a 'movie'," he said, putting air quotes around his words, "But our relationship was pretty quick if you want to think about it in that context. You were going to Paris with me after three days."

"Yeah, quick," said Becky, rolling her eyes, "Didn't I tell you that I had a crush on you when we were children too? I actually thought I'd been the one to drive you crazy."

Dave looked at her incredulously.

"You thought that?"

"I had just checked the note, what was I supposed to think?" she asked, "I had this conversation with my grandmother about it the day the fifth grade started. She assured me that I was far too young to be doing that sort of thing, driving men crazy over getting my attentions or not."

"Really?" asked Dave, feeling a little flattered, "You worried about something like that? Was it because you missed me or-?"

Becky rolled her eyes.

"Don't say it like that; I was seriously worried about that," she said, "I felt like I was physically sick that day. But when I met you again, I felt a little silly looking back on that time. But it was also the reason that I accepted your offer of a date so quickly, even if it was asked a little awkwardly."

"Yeah, I don't have much experience."

"Obviously."

He sighed, defeated.

"I have to admit that I wasn't really in love with you then," she said, "I mean, I certainly felt strongly towards you…a little more than a crush but not love. I did climb up on that building for you after all-"

"And humanity."

"I didn't really register that they were involved until I was up the first three staircases," she said, "You told me, I agreed, but when you asked me to do something I just saw you asking. It wasn't like it had been a normal night."

"Oh."

"Anyway," she said, "It wasn't one of those huge romantic Romeo-and-Juliet-type things."

"But…you told me you loved me only a few months later," he pointed out, "That's pretty quick by modern standards."

"Agreed. But it still wasn't that quick like that. Not to mention how incredibly young everyone is in those movies," she said, "Take Ariel for example."

"What's wrong with Ariel?"

"Nothing really," she said, "Except that's a great moral there for kids; defy your father, run off, and live with a guy at sixteen. Marry him three days later."

"I think you're oversimplifying things a bit there," observed Dave.

"What, do I have a _Little Mermaid _fan her?" she asked, grinning.

"I was always more into _Aladdin_," he said, "I really liked the Genie. Bit, blue, funny, and pocket sized when necessary."

"And wasn't he supposed to be eighteen in that movie or something?" asked Becky, "Aladdin, not Genie. Or was it sixteen there too?"

"Sixteen I think. Or at least Jasmine was, but they tend to keep the characters who are in love in the same age range. Makes characters like Jafar creepier," said Dave, "It was Belle and the Beast who were eighteen."

"Anyone in these movies not in their teens?" asked Becky.

"Maybe Phoebus from _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_? Dunno."

"This is what I'm talking about," she said, "When I was younger I thought I'd be married by now."

A lump formed in his throat. This line of questioning was a little too close to home with what he'd been thinking about earlier.

"I'm just saying," she said, "that when love actually came I had all these preconceived ideas about it. Some of them were quite silly when I think about it. But it turned out not to be like in the movies. I mean, nothing could really prepare me for it and how strange it can be at times. That's all that I'm trying to say."

He cocked his head and smiled at her.

"Wanna know something?"

"What?"

"For what it's worth; I think you'd look really great in a Disney Princess dress," he smiled.

She twisted away from him and made a face.

"No I wouldn't."

"I'm seeing something like Snow White or…who's that new one?"

"What new one?"

"You know," he said, gently tugging on her blonde hair, "The one with the ton of hair. The 3-D one?"

"Rapunzel?" asked Becky.

"Yeah," he said, "Get you in that pastel dress, a little lizard thing to put on your shoulder and-"

She smacked him in the arm.

"Flynn Rider you're not."

"Whoever that is," he grinned, "Just guess I'm not exactly Disney Prince material."

"Your turn to clarify."

"You know," he said, straightening himself, "Tall, impressive, handsome, magical, good with a sword…"

He trailed off at the last two requirements. Dave looked over and saw that Becky was grinning. She laughed out loud before kissing him.

"I think you fit the bill just fine," she said.


	48. Prompt 21: Eagle

21. Eagle

It was at times like these that Drake felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb. Everyone around him was chatting like they had done this many times before. There was a glance his way every now and then, but he just stared forwards with a blank face. He felt wrong there. It was like a party where everyone knew the host. Except for him that is.

He'd never been to an assembly like this. No one had ever told him the different levels he'd reached in his training, especially not his Master. He hadn't cared how far he'd progressed, just how many times he could come up with startling illusions. A ceremony hinted at a sense of community, something that he wasn't a part of.

However, Ashley had wanted him to come. It was a big deal for her and she didn't understand how it made him feel. How could he? So he had come, not saying a word about why he didn't want to, and trying not to show his distaste for the whole thing. The very place made his skin crawl with the feeling of being different.

Even the twins looked more comfortable than he did and they kept picking at their starched collars. Their parents had to keep telling them to stop it. He got curious and wary looks from them. It wasn't his fault that everyone was dressed formally when he had settled for a James Bond look. If he couldn't dress like what he was then what could he do?

"Mom, I wanna go home," said Tabitha.

"No, we're going to be staying," she said, shushing her daughter, "This is very important. When you become Journeymen you'll understand."

"Besides," their father said, "Didn't you like it when you became apprentices."

The twins looked at each other, then back at their parents. They wore a look of slight disdain.

"That was different," Julian said.

"How so?"

"That was all about us," Tabitha said.

Drake smirked to himself. Those kids got the picture.

"We'll be hearing no more of that," their mother said, "Now come on. It's going to be starting soon."

Now that the time had come he got up and walked into the training room. There was an overhanging balcony, or rather a walkway with a rail around it. The staircase was rickety but held up when he climbed it. Chairs had been placed up there and he sat down, still keeping a bored expression on his face. He made sure to sit as far away from Wonder Boy and Merlin's Apprentices. Oh, they had a daughter too now. Fancy that.

Down below Bianca walked into the Merlinian Circle. It lit up with green flame as she did so, walking to the outermost circle. She was wearing a gown that looked like it had been redesigned from an old flapper pattern and her trademark stilettos. He wasn't impressed in the least.

"You all know why we're here," she said, "And it's to recognize a Merlinian has sacrificed much to be a servant to the greater good."

No way had she written this shit. It had to be traditional. He knew that if it was up to Bianca she'd just start thinking of Ashley as a Journeyman and be done with it.

"Ashley Morton," she called.

Ashley stepped in. She was wearing a pale green dress done up in the Medieval fashion and kept her hair down. He looked at her and smiled. Yeah, this might look like it was a Renaissance Faire play, but she looked good in that sort of thing. He supposed that that was traditional as well.

"Everyone wear that for this kind of thing?"

He tilted his head in the Boy Wonder's direction.

"Definitely," answered Balthazar, "I've been to a few of these commencement ceremonies."

"I thought you were always an apprentice."

"It used to be apprentice than master," said Balthazar, "Merlin wanted us to remain apprentices so that we would always be under his tutelage. We would never stop learning that way; always work together as a unit. Didn't do much good in the end, but it was an inspired idea."

Balthazar tapped the railing.

"Journeyman was a rank added in the early 1400's when people got sick of eighteen-year old kids barely ready to be apprentices doing stupid things," he said, "It's a trial period, can last anywhere from a year to ten."

"I…" swallowed Dave.

"Don't worry too much Dave. You're more than ready, and I do things the old-fashioned way," said Balthazar, "And as for your commencement ceremony, don't think too heavily on it. You won't have to wear the dress."

Drake held back a smirk.

"I know that."

"I hope you have a good tabard," said Balthazar, "You'll need it in a few months. Maybe get you a tunic."

"Balthazar," Veronica said, her tone dangerous.

"Fine, I'll save teasing him for later. It's fun though. You should try it sometime. Relieves stress."

"Ha ha," Dave moaned.

Deciding that the entertainment was over Drake redirected his attention below them. Somehow Ashley had gotten into the position of kneeling.

"You're not a child anymore," said Bianca.

"I'm not a child," Ashley repeated.

"You have learned all of the spells necessary for an apprentice despite your late start, have you not?" asked Bianca.

"I have learned them."

Bianca waved her hand. Jack appeared from the sidelines. He held a redwood box about the size of a laptop computer.

"You no longer have the excuse for not knowing better when you have an accident," continued Bianca, "If you let your magic get out of control it will be your own fault. Do you accept this responsibility?"

"Yes."

There was no hesitation in that voice, no room for argument. Bianca smiled as if to say 'that's my girl'.

"Nah," Drake muttered under his breath, "That's **my** girl. Probably been waitin' for this for years, eh darlin'?"

"Do you renew your allegiance to the principles of our order; to keep our gifts secret?" asked Bianca.

"I will follow in the footsteps of the Merlinian Sorcerers who have gone before me," Ashley recited, "I shall protect humanity from the war that goes on as completely as I can. I will never give in to the dark, no matter how strong it becomes. As long as there is a breath in my body I will fight it, this I swear."

She said it perfectly, as well she might. She had spent countless hours practicing it with him until she got it right.

"Do you renew your allegiance to the defense of New York?"

"I will defend this city, this continent, and the world against any threats, be they Morganian or coming from our own ranks," she said, "This I swear."

"And you chose to stay here in this city of your own volition?"

Ashley hesitated for a second. He smiled and crossed his fingers. She always did have trouble with this part.

"This city is my home," said Ashley, "My ties are here and to the inhabitants of it. I stay here to assist in its protection."

Smiling Bianca motioned to Jack again. He opened the case to reveal a golden chain. It was simple, unadorned but for the pendant that held the chain together. The pendant was in the shape of an Eagle, the symbol of the New York Sorcerers. It had been no coincidence that the building they had built for their base had them scattered around the top.

Bianca took it from the box. She placed it around Ashley's neck.

"And so I, Bianca Lawrence, your master for these past years, confer unto you, Ashley Morton, the rank of Journeyman," she said, "May you make Master one day as well and be a credit to the Merlinian force. Rise."

Ashley got up gracefully to the applause of the gathered multitude. She fingered her chain for a minute. From what she had told him it was completely ceremonial in purpose. However, it represented years of hard work for her. Anyone could tell how much it meant to her just by watching the way she looked at it.

Growing up isolated like he had he couldn't understand that feeling. Magic had allowed him to get to a certain point in his life. It had never really felt like an accomplishment. He had barely even pursued it after his master had left. For Drake it had always just been a way to accomplish something.

Ashley had been abandoned in a similar way too. However, she had thrown herself into magic when it was presented to her. She was, in a way, the better version of himself. Ashley was what he could've become if he'd cared enough about himself. She was better, and she was different. The woman took pride in herself and what she did, holding onto honor and all that jazz. He had the most peculiar feeling that he was falling for her because of it.

Her eyes looked up at the audience, who were still clapping. Drake found, to his surprise, that he was clapping as well. Her eyes somehow managed to find him in the audience. Ashley's fingers went to her chain again. She smiled, a smile meant just for him and one that he knew the reason behind. He returned it.


	49. Prompt 24: Hot Dog

24. Hot Dog

"Why are we out here exactly?" Dave asked, trotting behind Balthazar.

His master stopped abruptly. Dave nearly ran into his back, missing him only by a narrow margin.

"You want to know something Dave?" asked Balthazar.

"I just asked you-"

"For all my years, and I have considerable years behind me, I never did know what they put in these things," said Balthazar.

Peering over his Master's shoulder Dave could see that Balthazar was referring to a hot dog that he'd bought earlier from a street vendor. He hadn't eaten it and Dave had wondered if perhaps it had been involved in the lesson somehow. He couldn't imagine what he would have to turn it into. Apparently not. Rolling his eyes he said;

"Can we get on with the lesson-?"

"Lessons can be learned from the mundane," Balthazar said, "Remember what I taught you with those socks a few weeks ago?"

"Don't remind me."

"I'll remind you as often as I like," said Balthazar, still examining the hot dog, "Now, a few decades ago I wouldn't dare to buy any form of meat on the streets of New York. Do you know why I wouldn't do that?"

Dave waved his hand vaguely.

"You had…an ulcer?"

"Cute," Balthazar said, "It wasn't because I knew what went into them, it was the uncertainty of not knowing what went into them."

"Not sure that I follow."

"You don't. But don't worry; that's okay. You will soon. The only thing that anyone knew about the sausages back then was that they were, in fact, insanely unsanitary. You do not want to know the things that went into sausages back then. You wouldn't dare ask me about what went into them."

"You're right, I wouldn't," Dave said impatiently.

"Fine, fine. If you insist," Balthazar said, "It was disgusting really. I mean, everything went in. Things that just dropped in there went in. This included bugs, animal manure, brick dust-"

"You can stop talking at any time."

"Things haven't changed all that much. Until a few years ago unborn baby pigs would be put into the sausage grinder, bones and all."

Something inside Dave desperately wanted to come out and get some fresh air. It was his lunch.

"I guess it's feasible because babies' skeletons are mostly cartilage so that was probably why no one choked to death-"

"Stop," Dave said, "Just stop."

Balthazar smirked at him and took a bit of the hot dog.

"It's been about two years and you're still not used to me doing things like that," Balthazar said, "What are the odds?"

"High Balthazar, the odds are high," said Dave, "I mean, I just did it, so high. Yep, I'd say that they're pretty high."

"You're freaking out again."

"I wonder why?"

Grinning Balthazar took another bite. He paused and looked out on the streets. A few people were hurrying by, but Dave didn't see anything too important.

"You're going to officially be a Master in a week," said Balthazar, resuming his measured pace.

"I haven't forgotten."

"I didn't think you did. I just want to know…how to put this," Balthazar said, "How do you feel about that?"

The question surprised him.

"Better."

"That's good," said Balthazar, "I knew it was a good idea to make you go to Ashley's commencement ceremony. So you feel better now that you know how things are going to go, or at least have a crude idea?"

"A ton. At least I know now that I won't have to sign my name in blood or anything," Dave said before he could stop himself.

Once more Balthazar stopped walking abruptly. This time Dave was a good distance away from him when he did so.

"You know, I am a little hard of hearing lately," Balthazar said, "But did you just say that you were afraid you'd have to sign your name in **blood**?"

He wanted desperately to lie. However, he knew better than to try to pull that. He'd just get called put on it and get **The **Look. Dave shuddered a little. In the two years after Balthazar had found him he hadn't gotten any better at lying. If anything he had somehow managed to get worse at it.

"…yes," he admitted.

"Why would you think that you'd have to do that?" Balthazar asked, puzzled.

Dave squirmed.

"Julian mentioned-"

"My wife's apprentices are admirable children," Balthazar interrupted, "They are both very talented and have abilities suited to helping save the lives of Merlinians. They are third generation sorcerers, if not more. However, they are missing something that would make them perfect Merlinians."

"And that is?" asked Dave.

"Honesty," Balthazar said, "They're chronic liars Dave."

"I know that **now**."

"Keep it in mind next time they try to pull one over on you," Balthazar said, starting to walk again and taking a bite of the hotdog, "However, back to the topic. You were saying Dave?"

They walked on and Dave struggled for words. It seemed odd to have to voice this to Balthazar, but he was obviously going to have to try.

"It feels weird," Dave said.

"Weird," repeated Balthazar.

"I don't feel like I'm ready."

"I wouldn't send you out if you weren't."

"It's just…" Dave said miserably, "You're a Master, and you seem a lot more confident of your abilities than I do."

"Confidence is a sham," said Balthazar, "If I tell you how scared I was the night that Morgana broke free of the Grimhold you'd never believe me."

Dave blinked at him. Then he looked down. Why wouldn't Balthazar have been scared? Humanity's greatest enemy was being freed to unleash undead evil sorcerers. Balthazar's true love had been used as a vessel for that insane woman. There was no one to combat the rising evil but him, and he'd be fighting against his former best friend. Of course he had been scared. Only…

"You hid it pretty well," he said.

"That's what bravery is," Balthazar replied, "If you're not scared of scary things then you're not brave; you're stupid. What are your other hang ups?"

"I…don't think I know enough spells," Dave said.

"What do you think you'd have to do?" snorted Balthazar, "Memorize the Incantus Dave? Most of sorcery is a continual learning process. Don't you every forget that or I'll have failed you as a teacher."

Dave nodded.

"If it helps your continually flagging self-esteem," said Balthazar, "You're actually a little over-qualified."

"Hardy-har-har."

"Dave I'm not sure if this will do you much good, but you should at least be aware of it," sighed Balthazar, "You have gone through much more than an average apprentice does. Most of them just sit around and study their Incantus."

"Ashley and Michael were killing vampires with me," Dave pointed out, "And they responded to any Merlinian emergency calls."

"They're not average apprentices either," Balthazar said, "They've been trained in New York. Even if you were just a normal sorcerer your apprenticeship here wouldn't have been normal. But they always do it under supervision."

"…well still-"

"How about we review what **you've** done as an apprentice?" snapped Balthazar sharply, turning around on his heel and facing Dave.

Before Dave could say anything Balthazar said;

"In your first week you defeated Morgana Le Faye, a woman that Merlin himself could never destroy," he said, "You did this knowing only four combat spells and two different types of shields."

"Well-"

"After that you destroyed her son and his army of zombies whilst exhibiting impressive sword skills," said Balthazar, "And if you didn't do this with your ring, you did it with the knowledge that you could. You were ready to become a Master power-wise from the minute you defeated Morgana. Everything after that was just control."

Dave gaped at him.

"And that," said Balthazar, "was the lesson for today."

Taking a bite of his hot dog he turned on his heel and headed back to the lab.


	50. Prompt 23: Dragon

23. Dragon

The records on Merlin's youth were scarce. Historians were still scrabbling, fumbling in the dark. Most didn't even know if he existed. Merlinian scholars had a small flashlight, but they didn't know much either. Even Balthazar didn't know much about his Master's history beyond his wife and involvement in Arthur's education.

Dave felt guilty for knowing more than any of them, and for not saying anything. He had wanted to know about his ancestor, the man who had essentially gotten him into the mess of his life. He had asked Balthazar for as much information as he was worth. However, as he had said, one did not pry into the past of their superiors.

So Dave had given it up as a lost cause. As he found out later everyone's Incantus is tailored to them specially. It was no accident that he had found a spell to make the household objects clean up so quickly. In a way it was alive, updating itself and trying to accommodate the needs of its user.

When he had opened it that night he had found whole chapters of information about him. He had been surprised but happy. Dave had spent that whole night reading. He had never been that absorbed in a book his entire life. It was a little humorous that it took something like magic to get him interested in books.

Merlin had been born the son of a mortal woman and an Incubus, according to the prophesy made by Vivienne fifty-five years earlier. Vivienne was technically Nimue's grandmother, but it referenced it as something that would be important later. So he hadn't been the child of humans, not really. The stories had that right.

However, his mother had been a widower and Merlin Ambronsinus had been born the younger of two brothers. The older brother had eventually gone down to Scarborough and had children there. He faded out around at that point. Since Balthazar had told Dave that Merlin had never had any children he knew that he was somehow related to this man. The Incantus faded him out to make him hard to find. The book was smart.

As a boy he had shown promise, Dave had expected that. King Vortigen, on one of his rampages, had completely destroyed his village. Merlin's mother had been one of the casualties. That was the first time Merlin had lashed out with his powers, killing nearly all of the King's men. A few lived to tell and a price was put on his head.

He left the area after his mother died, having no ties and knowing that no one there could teach him to harness his craft. Not only that but he was an outlaw now. So he had travelled all around England. During his travels he had dropped his last name and was simply known by Merlin for security reasons.

When Uther ascended the throne he learned that he had been pardoned. However, the life of the vagrant suited him now so he continued to travel and destroy evil. His reputation was growing. Merlin took to disguising himself more and more, making sure that no two accounts of his appearance coincided. Dave was amazed how obsessed he had been with security. Seeing how events had turned out later it turned out to be a good thing.

A strong sorcerer rose in the east and Merlin had hastened to put him down. There were rumors that this man, Godfrey, was Morgana's lover and Master. No one was sure, except that his visits to Tintagel castle where Morgana was living at the age of sixteen were quite frequent. Speculation aside Merlin defeated him with the help of a local seventy-year-old sorcereress called Jocasta. The battle had been fought on the coast, shattering mountains.

During his battle his caster was damaged. Jocasta had recommended the one who had made her latest caster. So Merlin had travelled to the court of King Uther. This time he had worn his real appearance, since he hadn't used it in so long. It was there that, during a tournament, he had found the man that Jocasta had recommended.

This was also the first time that he had met Nimue. She had had her Arcana already and had been blind. From the illustrations she had had red hair. Dave had studied the picture hard, trying to see any trace of Becky in the woman there. He hadn't been able to see much, just like he hadn't been able to see much of himself in Merlin. It had been over a millennium so expecting them to look like them was probably unreasonable.

It was no overnight romance between the two of them. They didn't have time to fall in love just yet. Merlin was actually commissioned by King Uther almost directly after to destroy a dragon. The creature had been terrorizing France and had crossed the channel. Merlin had dispatched it after a week-long battle with the creature. He had limped back to King Uther's castle to say that the deed was done and have Dragonslayer added to his name

While he was resting Nimue's father had made a sword, commissioned by the King, as a reward. Merlin also came into more contact with Nimue. It was during this period that romance blossomed. He also learned of her and her father's virtual imprisonment by King Uther because of her gift. They decided to wed in secret.

As a dowry her father had made three rings, as directed by Nimue, seen in a vision. Two were given to Horvath and Balthazar. Dave had been surprised to read that. He had never thought about where his Master had gotten his ring. Of course he had had to get it somewhere, but he had never thought about it like that.

The other ring was now in his pocket, made in the image of his great victory. He kept it with him for the confidence it gave. Reading on he found that the union was a secret for a grand total of eight months. Nimue was chained, hidden away, and Merlin was commanded to help King Uther steal the wife of one of his vassals.

He capitulated and Ygraine was taken and made Queen. Her two daughters were fostered out, for better and for worse respectively. Morgause eventually became Queen of Lothain and Orkney while Morgana became a Duchess. They faded out after that brief mention, but he knew that Morgause would be mentioned again from Veronica and Balthazar's accounts. Morgana was a no-brainer.

Uther kept Nimue as collateral, making her the governess of his young son. Merlin was kept under his thumb if he ever wanted to see his wife again. They didn't see each other for more than a few minutes, making escape almost impossible. In the meantime Uther's insanity mounted and he eventually killed Ygraine, the woman he had destroyed a principality for. Even the young prince wasn't spared his tantrums.

When Arthur was four years old they ran away and took him with them. They hid for eight years. During this time Merlin fought against Uther while keeping his small family safe. He even killed two more dragons. After the eight years were up he tried to stop a military incursion near his home village. Uther moved in then.

Nimue ran to Mount St. Michael, the nearest religious house where he could beg sanctuary. She was wounded though, but managed to get Arthur to safety. Upon reaching the village Merlin realized his mistake and rushed to find them. Merlin arrived too late, his wife dying in his absence.

Dave had briefly remembered how it had felt to hold Becky in his arms when he thought that she was dead. He found himself pitying his famous ancestor. The rest of the history he knew, the sword in the stone, Arthur's rise and fall, and the battle against Morgana that had been fought by his master and ancestor.

He hadn't told Balthazar about any of this. He felt guilty, but if Balthazar had really wanted to know then this might have been in his Incantus. Besides, he felt like he was peeking into someone's life in a way that he shouldn't have been. The feeling was just compounded when they entered Merlin's Keep for his commencement ceremony.

Balthazar had declined to join the New York Merlinians. Bianca had offered membership, even offered to step down as Prime. Balthazar had wanted to remain uninvolved with any one branch. It allowed one to move around easier. Dave had followed his example. That was why his ceremony wouldn't be happening in the Chrysler building. It also wouldn't have any of the pomp that had followed Ashley's. He didn't mind that.

It was actually just him and Balthazar in the end. The Merlinian Circle had been drawn in the courtyard and they had both stepped inside. Dave had knelt in the circle of the forbidden zone. Balthazar was on the other side. His jacket had been gotten rid of. It was like when he had first been confirmed as Balthazar's apprentice two years prior.

Ashley's ceremony was similar in many ways. It was a different rank though, and it was being administered by someone who preferred the old form of ceremonies.

"You're not a child anymore," said Balthazar, "Nor are you inexperienced in the craft."

"No I'm not," Dave said.

"You have learned all of the spells necessary for mastership despite your rather late start, have you not?" asked Balthazar.

"I have learned them."

Reaching into his pocket Balthazar had pulled out a chain.

"You have never had the excuse for not knowing better when you have an accident," continued Balthazar, "If ever you let your magic get out of control it will be your own fault. Do you accept this responsibility?"

"Yes."

"Do you renew your allegiance to the principles of our order; to keep our gifts secret?" asked Balthazar.

"I will follow in the footsteps of the Merlinian Sorcerers who have gone before me, and that of my ancestor," Dave said "I shall protect humanity from our warsas completely as I can. I will never give in to the dark, no matter how strong it becomes. As long as there is a breath in my body I will fight it. I will defend the world against any threats, this I swear."

Balthazar unfolded the chain. It was like Ashley's, only it didn't have an Eagle for the pendant. Since Dave didn't have a family crest, Merlin had never had one, and he didn't belong to a city he had chosen it. His pendant was a Dragon. Giving his Ancestor's history, and his own for that matter, Dave had thought it appropriate.

"And so I, Balthazar Blake, sorcerer of the 777th degree and your Master, confer unto you, David Stutler, the rank of Master," he said, putting it around his neck "May you be more of a credit to the Merlinian force than you already have been. Rise."

He stood and the fires died out. Balthazar smiled at him.

"Congratulations."

Dave hesitated for a moment before extending his fist.

"Knuckle bump?"

Balthazar rolled his eyes but chuckled.

"Might as well."


	51. Prompt 37: Wind

37. Wind

Drake ran across the fire escape, his stupid shoes pounding on the pavement. Each breath he took felt like someone was stabbing him and a stitch was starting up in his side. He'd never felt something like this before, never been pushed so far beyond the limit of his physical endurance. Failing wasn't an option though.

_You can do this, _he thought, _Remember when you were on the track team in middle school? This is just like that only with fire escapes and roofs._

_ Didn't you get kicked off? _another thought intruded.

"Thanks subconscious," he moaned, vaulting himself over the railing and onto the street below.

Both Bianca and Ashley had trained him for these situations. He hadn't exactly been on a rigorous physical schedule, but it was enough to build up some sort of strength and fighting technique in him. They had concentrated more on magic, which they had all thought would be more useful in the long run. Boy were they wrong.

Landing on the street he risked a glance backwards. They were still following him, he hadn't expected otherwise. A plasma bolt was aimed at him, nearly missing his head. Drake stopped looking back and concentrated on running. All he had to do was get to the Chrysler building, which was actually on the other side of town.

So his chances of actually making it were slim. In that case he'd have to fight his attackers, and his odds of doing that successfully were on the narrow side too. In all reality how does one fight six Morganian sorcerers? He himself had been one once upon a time, so that should give him an edge. However, he'd never been very good at it and these ones obviously were.

All in all it was just another piece of evidence that luck was against him. For one thing he knew that he was over ten minutes late for the date with Ashley. Things had been lasting so long that he'd nearly lost track of time. He was sure that she'd forgive him when she found out that he'd been being chased by bloodthirsty Morganians. Yeah.

It had started so simply; go in and get the information. Things were moving quickly in the Morganian world now, too much going on. The coup project had been abandoned. Simon felt that things would be easier if he just proved himself worthy in a big way. Then everyone would flock to his banner.

A direct attack was being planned on the Chrysler building. If it was badly thought out than he wouldn't have worried too much. However, this one was quite cunning and presented a large problem. If no one knew about it it would definitely work. If they did know about it then it still might work. He'd have to tell Bianca that they'd have to mobilize now.

That was what he'd found out at that night's group meeting where he had been organized. Drake had gone into meetings countless times before and there had been no problem. This time though, a Morganian of the 550th degree had noticed that there was something off about his magic. He'd nearly smacked himself for not noticing him in the room earlier. That had led to his present undesirable predicament.

His only consolation was that they'd all gone after them at once. No one had sent a runner to go and tell anyone that he was a spy for the Merlinians. That gave him some time. It also meant that he'd have to kill all of them, or at least put them out for the running. Comas might work, if he had the ability to do that without killing anyone. Drake shuddered to himself. He wasn't prepared for actually killing anyone. Even Horvath had known that it had been all talk with him.

Drake rounded a corner into a dead end. He swore loudly and faced the opening of the alley. He bet that James Bond never had this kind of thing happen to him. If he did then he'd planned it and would have clever traps in the alley. Unfortunately he wasn't really James Bond; he was not getting constantly laid and the probability of death was actually greater for him. Yeah, he really lost out on that deal.

Forming a plasma bolt with his hands he knocked back the first Morganian to come into the alley. Drake sidestepped his body and used it to shield himself against the fire bolt of another oncoming Morganian. He ducked under the man once he'd resumed his purpose and backed up. If he could get out of there then he could probably carry on running despite the burning in his lungs. Scratch that, he **would **carry on running.

All of his plans were shattered when he felt arms grab him from behind. Before he knew it he was shoved head first against the pavement. His lip was cut and he tasted copper in his mouth. Why was it always the face with these people? If he lived then he'd have words with them about that. The 550th sorcerer came forward and crouched down.

"How long have you been spying on us?"

Drake considered the question.

"Piss off," he settled for.

His head was slammed into the pavement and the area under his eye was cut from the impact. Although it made him see stars he tried to concentrate on the positive; at least he wasn't dead yet. How long that happy state of affairs would last he wasn't sure, but he would do his best to make sure that it did.

"What kind of Morganians are you, slammin' another man's head into the pavement?" Drake said, spitting out blood.

"We have more sophisticated methods of torture you know."

"Sophisticated?" laughed Drake, "Tosh. You couldn't be sophisticated if your life depended on it mate."

Another slam. He heard a crack and felt pain from his nose. It was broken now. That wouldn't heal correctly. Drake had to get out of the situation and fast. Hadn't Bianca taught him how to get out of torture? Most of the methods involved a cyanide capsule, but there had been a few that shouldn't involve him dying at the end.

A wind spell started to form in his left hand. They couldn't see it because it was air, and it took a while to build up. Drake would need to concentrate on it though, and that allowed very slender allowances for mistakes. So no matter how badly beat-up he got he needed to keep thinking about that. That was…problematic.

"You don't believe us," said 550, electricity forming in his hands, "I can make you."

"Out here, in the street?" said Drake, keeping his mind on the spell, "You're gonna have lots of people hearin' my screams."

"Put a sound damper," 550 ordered.

That bought him a little more time. The spell was maturing in his hand. Piece of cake.

"Done," another one called.

There were five now, the one that he had taken out earlier was still out for the count. If he was clever and quick he could do this. The spell was ready in his hand.

"Shall we begin?" asked 550.

"Yup," agreed Drake cheerfully.

He let the spell go. The kickback knocked the man who was holding him back. Leaping to his feet Drake used the man as a shield against the attack that 550 was setting up. The wind was knocking everyone else around and the man who was used as shield soon served his purpose. Drake moved behind him and headed towards the mouth of the alley.

They were still after him; he didn't need to think about that. He levitated groups of garbage cans at them, shoving two of them to the ground before beating them. The move wasn't very elegant but he had abandoned elegance when he found it necessary to save his life. Bianca would be proud of him.

Still running he hopped on the back of a garbage truck. It wasn't going very fast but he just needed something moving while he could stay still. His concentration was broken and he needed to be concentrated to set up a shield. Drake had never been very good at defensive spells so this required some extra thought.

Throwing it up he started shooting plasma bolts and water displacement spells. He was being sapped of his energy quickly but he couldn't afford to let up. They were all gone, except 550 that is. He was good. Everything Drake shot at him was deflected. His skill level was so far above him that it hurt. Not to mention, he was a very athletic runner.

550 caught his shoe and dragged him to the ground. Drake hit his head hard and felt bruises and cuts form all over his body. His leg made a painful crunching sound, not something he wanted to investigate. He was pissed, he didn't intend to die that day. For one thing he still had to apologize to Ashley for missing their date in a suitable manner.

Just as he thought this he felt something slide into his ribs. It was painful, but not overly so. Drake looked down to find out that he'd been stabbed. The thought rewrote itself into his brain and he found himself swearing out loud in a screaming voice. Oh yes, it was very painful indeed.

He grabbed the lapels of 550. Concentrating Drake summoned up the most electricity that he could possibly use. The man shook under his spell, going into convulsions. Only when he was sure that he was out of the running did Drake let go. Then he let go of himself and collapsed on the pavement, trying to steady his breath.

With shaky hands he reached into his pocket.

"Bianca?" he breathed out.

"Drake?" asked Bianca, sounding bored, "What's going on?"

Trying to collect his thoughts he gave her a basic outline of what was going to happen. That was what she always wanted, a report first, yeah.

"That's…serious," she said, "Where are you now?"

He looked around him. His vision was becoming blurry for some reason. In gasping breaths he gave his location.

"Also," he managed, "I've been being chased by some Morganians. I took them down, a little scattered, but yeah. Um…"

"Yes?"

"I've also been stabbed and I don't know how to heal it," he said, "Could you send someone over?"

"WHAT?"

"Oh…and tell Ashley I'm sorry," he managed before unconsciousness took him.


	52. Prompt 9: Good

9. Good

Ashley was wondering what was going on. To start with Drake had been late for the movie they were going to see. Seeing as she didn't want to see it she had left after twenty minutes. She had felt embarrassed for waiting that long, but sometimes he really did get caught up in stuff.

Then there had been the phone call from Becky a few minutes ago.

"What's up?" Ashley had asked.

"You need to get down to the Chrysler building," said Becky.

"Why? Did Bianca call?" she asked, suddenly becoming alert.

"No, I just have a feeling that you need to be down there."

Knowing better than to question a seer Ashley had grabbed her weapons and headed down. When she arrived she found Bianca walking around in the lobby, looking agitated. No one else was in sight, as was usual in a crisis situation. She wondered if perhaps Becky had been wrong somehow and Bianca's stress was caused by something else. Sometimes feelings were just feelings.

When Bianca saw her her jaw dropped.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Um…Becky said I might need to be down here," said Ashley, feeling awkward, "And…yeah."

"Did she say why?"

"No."

"Typical seer," muttered Bianca, "Didn't follow the vision through. I suppose that there's a reason for you to be here…"

She gave Ashley a hard look.

"I was going to tell you," she said, "I just thought that we should have a conference of Masters first to figure out the best move."

So it was a crisis situation. Ashley shifted her quiver that contained her arrows and bow. If a fight was brewing then she'd be ready for it.

"You may want to sit down," said Bianca.

Ashley did so, puzzled as to why she should. She'd been briefed on situations before and she'd only been asked to sit down the first time. Bianca knew better than to treat her like she didn't know much. After all, she was a Journeyman now and that wasn't just some empty title that was thrown around.

Bianca briefed her on the situation on the Morganians.

"How could they attack us here?" asked Ashley, "Isn't this basically an impregnable fortress or something?"

"Basically," Bianca said, "And there's the problem. We thought no one could breach it until Horvath came along. He just swatted everything aside and stepped in. We have to be cautious."

Sighing she started to scratch her arm where a nicotine patch had been applied.

"It's at times like this I wished I still smoked," said Bianca, "Can't afford to get lung cancer now though."

Nodding in assent Ashley straightened her back. She could be depended on.

"So how'd you find this out?"

Her Master hesitated.

"Drake told us," she said.

"Dead useful having a spy around," observed Ashley, "Much better than leaving him in a morgue."

She had meant it as a joke but Bianca suddenly looked tense. A strange feeling started in her gut and started to rise. Bianca never looked tense unless something was going on that was going to be very bad. In fact, she was putting on her bad news face. It was one part sympathy and one part business. One of Ashley's fists clenched and she took a few calming breaths. Then she asked, in a very even tone;

"Where's Drake?"

There was a long sigh.

"Drake obtained this information just seconds before he was apprehended by a group of Morganians," said Bianca, "We trained him well enough that he gave them quite the chase. He managed to take them all down but…"

"But?" asked Ashley.

"What you have to understand first-"

"**But what**?" Ashley snapped.

Bianca looked her in the eyes before turning away.

"He suffered a concussion, several cuts on his face, a broken nose and leg, and a stab wound to the ribs," said Bianca, "The knife nicked the bone but didn't hit any vital organs."

"Is he going to be okay?" asked Ashley, fighting to restrain a growing sense of panic, "You said no vitals so…right?"

"He's out of commission for a long time. We're going to have to keep him in the medical room 'round back with an IV for at least a few weeks," said Bianca, "The bone broke funny so the twins had a time with it, weren't able to heal it completely. We tried to call in Veronica but she couldn't come in immediately. She's coming now along with Dave and Balthazar. They're not part of the group officially but this is a situation."

Numbly Ashley nodded.

"I tried to do this gently because I know the two of you…if it had been serious I would've called immediately," Bianca said.

"I understand," she said, succeeding in keeping her voice under control, "Can he take visitors?"

"Yeah," said Bianca, "It's down the hall past the tech room."

"Thanks," Ashley said abruptly, getting up.

She knew it was rude to leave like that, but she couldn't restrain herself anymore. The best she could do was not to go run down there. The room was easy enough to find, it had a sign on it, and she went in. Lucky for her the twins were out, probably taking a rest after their work on her boyfriend.

Slinging down her bows and arrows she took his hand. The scrapes on his face had been healed but he was appeared to still be out. A beeping noise was the only one in the silent room and it was swallowed up almost immediately. For some time she stood there, not making a sound. Finally she felt like she needed to say something.

"You asshole," she said, "Feel heroic, getting yourself hurt?"

Ashley refused to cry over this.

"Did this make you feel any more Merlinian?" she continued, "You asshole, if you do this shit again I'll kill you."

"Hardly fair," he mumbled.

One of his eyes opened and he gave a half-hearted grin. She wanted to say something else to him when she heard a loud noise from outside. It sounded like a situation if anything did.

"You wait here asshole," she said, kissing him on the forehead.

"Yes ma'am."

Letting go of his hand she walked to the door. Opening it she saw Balthazar and Drake arguing with Bianca down the hall. Veronica stood behind them with Lorna in her arms, silent but watching events with a critical eye. Jack was there too, being a Master as well. Absentmindedly Ashley headed there, leaving the door open.

"You kept this from us!" Balthazar snapped.

"I made a split second decision," she said, "It was either that or let an opportunity go to waste!"

"He worked with Horvath!"

"You don't like how I do things?" Bianca hissed, folding her arms, "You wanna be Prime? I offered it to you, don't you forget that-"

"I haven't forgotten anything but it's a bad idea."

"He's provided us with useful information in the past," said Jack, "Despite what you think about him. He can but trusted."

"He tried to kill me in the bathroom," Dave said.

"Did **not** need to know that," said Bianca.

"I'm just trying to say that it was low," explained Dave, "You really think a guy like that is going to tell the truth about anything?"

"Yes!" Ashley shouted.

Everyone in the room turned towards her. In any other situation she would have been embarrassed. Now she was too infuriated to hear it.

"He has just been nearly killed trying to get this information and you're squabbling about something that happened two years ago?" she snapped, "You don't know him anymore! He's changed!"

She could see the incredulity in Balthazar and Dave's faces.

"He's not even a Morganian anymore!" insisted Ashley, "Drake's not like he was. Sure he's an asshole, but he's a good person now."

There was silence.

"You really think we can trust him?" asked Dave tentatively.

"Yes you can trust him," snapped Ashley, "I've trusted him with my life before and he's come through."

"She's right," Bianca said, "He's rooming with her because of security. You think I'd let some I thought dangerous Morganian stay with my student? Hmm Balthazar?"

Balthazar ran his hand through his hair, obviously thinking. He shared a look with Dave and even Veronica before he answered.

"Fine," he said, "Now let's get to business."


	53. Prompt 72: Ego

72. Ego

Things had been fuzzy for Drake after he passed out. He'd been vaguely aware of getting picked up and then he'd felt magic surging through him. He hadn't had much thought after that, just recognizing it as the twins doing what they did best. Yeah, calling Bianca had been a good last action.

Naturally there had been pain. The healers said that it would 'feel a little funny' a phrase that was quite commonly used. What it felt like in Drake's particular situation was like someone had stuck a water gun full of soda inside his stab wound and pulled the trigger. In other words; burning, bubbly, and uncomfortable as hell. Even his leg felt like it was twisted inside and out before being put on the correct way.

Then there had been waking up. As soon as he'd done it he'd wanted to go right back to sleep. His head hurt, his chest hurt, his leg hurt, it all hurt. Drake was actually wondering if there was any morphine or something around that he could use. After everything he'd been through he was pretty sure that he deserved some drugs.

The door had opened and he'd watched it through slitted eyes. At first he'd hoped that it was the drugs he'd been thinking about. Then, as they came in completely, he'd realized it was Ashley. He'd closed his eyes all the way. Being injured **and** screamed at was not something he was ready for just yet.

Of course, she had looked rather upset when she got there. Perhaps she wasn't mad at all, just a little shaken up. Surprise shot through him when he felt her take his hand. It was the kind of thing that people did on TVs and in Dramas. In real life it only happened in scenes of high emotion. It had never happened to him before and he felt oddly touched.

"You asshole," she said, "Feel heroic, getting yourself hurt?"

Well, there went that theory. He was definitely not getting any sympathy out of this one.

"Did this make you feel any more Merlinian?" she continued, "You asshole, if you do this shit again I'll kill you."

He started to shrink back into his bed. Drake tentatively lifted one of his eyelids just a little to check on the developing situation. Despite the things that Ashley was saying she didn't look mad. Instead she looked like she was ready to cry. Huh. So it looked like she was worried about him.

Not that he'd expected her not to be. She was bound to be a little. Ashley wasn't some sort of sadistic heartless witch…but still. Drake hadn't considered this particular turn of events. Ashley did have a tough front, but he had known her to care deeply about things. Perhaps he was one of those things.

He gave a small smirk. Needless to say having a girl next to tears when he got injured was doing wonders for his ego.

"Hardly fair," he mumbled.

One of his eyes opened and he gave a half-hearted grin. The look on Ashley's face changed almost instantly. It went from next to tears to enraged. Oh boy, he hadn't planned on that. She looked like wanted to say something else to him when there was a loud noise from outside. Drake cocked his head towards it. Whatever it was it was certain to be better than just lying there and getting yelled at.

"You wait here asshole," she said, kissing him on the forehead.

So maybe she wasn't going to yell at him. Awesome.

"Yes ma'am," he said mockingly.

Letting go of his hand she walked to the door. Once she had opened it she winced and made a face. The voices were a little clearer to Drake now, Bianca, Balthazar, and the Boy Wonder. What a wonderful alliteration. Other people might have been down there too, of course, but he couldn't hear them. Absentmindedly Ashley headed there, leaving the door open behind her. So of course Drake could hear everything.

"You kept this from us!" Balthazar snapped.

"I made a split second decision," Bianca said, "It was either that or let an opportunity go to waste!"

"He worked with Horvath!"

He shrank back into the bed. Oh boy. This was when the shit hit the fan. He'd always lived in a state of semi-fear that the Morganians would find out he was a Merlinian spy. That hadn't turned out to be too bad though. He could see now that he should've been afraid that the other **Merlinians** would find out who he was.

Drake considered running. It would be hard to run on legs that weren't fully healed, but if he had to go then he had to go. He knew the building pretty well so he could be back at Ashley's apartment in no time. If he got a cab that was. So yeah, escape was feasible. It was just going to be painful no matter what he did.

"You don't like how I do things?" Bianca hissed, "You wanna be Prime?"

From the tone of her voice he could tell that she crossed her arms. It was an action reserved for when she was really pissed. He'd seen it quite often.

"I offered it to you, don't you forget that-" she continued.

"I haven't forgotten anything but it's a bad idea," snapped Balthazar.

Oh yes, the ever pious Balthazar Blake. Go on, judge. He was the Great Merlinian Judge, the ultimate guy, the head honcho. At least the New York Merlinians were stubborn enough not to take his word as gospel. That meant that Drake might have a fighting chance even without running away.

Running away still looked pretty attractive though. At the same time he knew he couldn't, and not just because he was injured. If Drake ran away now then everything he'd worked for would collapse. Alright, so no one really trusted him. However, there was some sort of mutual respect that had grown over two years. In another two years maybe they'd even trust him. He'd have to wait and find out.

Not to mention Ashley. It hurt that she was being silent in the argument, but she might not be allowed to speak. Either that or she might have harbored these doubts about him herself. Still, those years had been spent for a reason. He had her, he had some sort of life, and he wasn't willing to give it up just because some holier-than-thou Merlinains wanted his head. No way, not happening.

"He's provided us with useful information in the past," said Jack, "Despite what you think about him. He can but trusted."

Whoa, now Jack was defending him? He'd have to thank the guy sometime.

"He tried to kill me in the bathroom," Dave said.

Oh yeah. Drake tried not to chuckle at the memory. It wasn't really that funny because he had tried to kill him so it wasn't right to laugh about it. The whole set-up had been despicable, it really had. At the same time though laughter escaped from his lips in small bursts. He needed to learn to keep it together better than that.

"Did **not** need to know that," said Bianca.

Despite everything Drake gave a full-blown snort of laughter. Bianca knew how to dissolve the tension in just about any situation.

"I'm just trying to say that it was low," explained Dave, "You really think a guy like that is going to tell the truth about anything?"

The laughter died in his throat. No…he didn't suppose that they had any reason to trust him when he put it like that.

"Yes!" Ashley shouted.

Something inside him froze. He gripped the rails of his bed tightly.

"He has just been nearly killed trying to get this information and you're squabbling about something that happened two years ago?" she snapped, "You don't know him anymore! He's changed!"

Biting his lip Drake closed his eyes. She was saying that…she was saying that about him, the man she'd called an asshole only minutes before.

"He's not even a Morganian anymore!" insisted Ashley, "Drake's not like he was. Sure he's an asshole, but he's a good person now."

That was more like her. Yet, a good person? That was what she thought? He rubbed his eyes. Something filmy was building up there for some reason.

"You really think we can trust him?" asked Dave tentatively.

"Yes you can trust him," snapped Ashley, "I've trusted him with my life before and he's come through."

"I love you sweetheart," he muttered, "I swear to God I do and I'll be tellin' you that, just wait and see…"

"She's right," Bianca said, "He's rooming with her because of security. You think I'd let some I thought dangerous Morganian stay with my student? Hmm Balthazar?"

Even Bianca? The world had gone batshit insane, but in a good way. It went without saying that everyone talking about him like that really stoked his ego.

"Fine," Balthazar said, "Now let's get to business."

Drake let go of the rails and straightened in his hospital bed. He jutted his chin out and looked defiantly towards the open door.

"Yes," he said, "Lets."


	54. Prompt 38: Fire

38. Fire

Dave shoved his hands in his pockets. Like Balthazar he didn't trust the man who stared at them in defiance when they came in the room. He wondered briefly if he'd heard the argument in the hall. The door had been open after all. That was probably why he didn't run; he knew no one was going to harm him.

"Now Drake," Bianca said, "You told me some serious stuff earlier on the phone. Now that you're not bleeding to death-"

She shot a glare at Balthazar and Dave as if to say 'I-told-you-so'.

"-you may care to elaborate some on some that information with us," she continued, "Now we have here-"

"The Prime Merlinian and the Blakes. I know," said Drake, "I'm acquainted with two out o' the three."

Balthazar narrowed his eyes.

"But I don't mind," he said, "It's what I'm here for, you know?"

Clearing his throat he said;

"Now everyone here's up to date on the current Morganian political situation, right?"

Dave gave him a blank stare. Morganians had politics?

"No?" smirked Drake, "Alright then. Slight power struggle goin' on at the moment. Jordan Grant's son, name's Simon, thinks his father wasn't givin' him enough responsibility. He hasn't actually named him his heir."

"Which is odd," Balthazar said.

"Yeah, should've been named when he finished his apprenticeship," Drake said, "But for some reason they didn't. It was kinda a given that he would. Even I knew that way back when an' I wasn't even in on the New York scene."

Dave snorted in disbelief. He could see Drake clench his teeth. Ashley drew her finger across her throat in a silent threat.

"Right now they're sayin' he might not though," said Drake, "Apparently he always favored the younger son, Clay. Not like they have some sort of solid model to go on. He dinnit even technically train him."

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything," Balthazar said, "Most parents don't want to train their children. They're too afraid of going too easy or too hard on them. Generally they had them over to someone that they can trust for training."

Balthazar's eyes flickered over to Lorna for a minute. Veronica shifted her in her arms, looking a little uncomfortable. Dave wondered what that was about, but he didn't have much time to think about it. Drake was waving away Balthazar's explanations with his hand as though they were of no consequence.

"Be that as it may," Drake said impatiently, "That's not what's happenin' here. Apparently he didn't like the mother or somethin'. Clay's only Simon's half brother. There was this thing that happened a few years ago…"

"Like?" asked Veronica.

"Jordan Grant killed his first wife," Bianca said, "He said that she was cheating on him with his second-in-command."

"Was she?"

"Who knows?" shrugged Bianca, "It was an internal struggle so we weren't that involved with it. Drake was the one who found out about it."

Once more there was a pointed look.

"A long time later the second-in-command came after him," Jack said, "that was the last big Morganian incident in New York before Mordred came along. We knew that he was doing it, we just didn't know the why."

"So to Jordan's mind Simon might not even be his real son," Dave said.

"Exactly."

"Morganians don't tend to make happy families," Ashley said.

"Nope. But it's immaterial you lot, don't know why you get so hung up about these things," shrugged Drake, "Simon started gettin' really upset around the time some of the young bloods did. Jordan does things old fashioned and they want some o' that material gain. Jordon's just in it for magical prestige and riches. They want fame."

"Out with the old in with the new," Veronica said.

"Yup," Drake said, "For a while there was talk of a coup or somethin'. But then Simon started to do some weird stuff. He wanted to splash out and make a name for himself, gain some more support before he tried to usurp dear ol' dad."

"Like?" asked Dave.

"Remember those vampires in Queens?" asked Bianca.

"Yeah-oh."

"Oh is right," Jack said, "Vampires tend to be solitary creatures. They wouldn't travel in a big pack like that unless there was something big in it for them."

"Using vampires is a desperate move," Balthazar said, "They're unpredictable on their good days."

"Yeah, but even unpredictable has a pattern. The only thing that's certain is that this is going to destroy a lot of stuff if we let it happen," said Bianca, "As some of you may remember there was a Morganian coup in San Francisco."

Balthazar nodded.

"The Great San Francisco Earthquake and Fire. There was another one down south, they thought it was a hurricane," he said.

"Well that sounds…awful," said Dave.

"It was. I know, I was there," Balthazar said.

"Old news," said Drake dismissively, "We're worried about what's coming. I'm very worried to be honest. I'm actually two steps away from curlin' up under me blanket to be honest."

"Not like that takes much," muttered Dave.

He got the gesture from Ashley again. Dave was beginning to wonder if there was something about her and Drake.

"Now, an' I'm not sure about this since me education's a little lackin'," said Drake, "But wards are based on the elements of earth and wind, right?"

"Right," Veronica said.

"The Chrysler building is full of old wards," Drake said, "They have some of the blueprints, dunno how. Sometimes these things just happen. Now I don't know too much about internal security here-"

So they didn't trust him that much after all. Howe hypocritical. Dave wanted to make another smart-aleck remark but he figured he was sort of overdoing it. This sounded important, something to consider even if the source of information had tried to kill him in the much too recent past.

"I'll take it from here," said Bianca, "When John Steed built this place he put wards on every level. Now, to make sure that it was extra strong he used double locking wards, each one intersecting and twisting to ensure their strength. One level has wards for earth and wind, the next has fire and water."

Sighing heavily Balthazar muttered;

"He always was one to take chances."

"So you know what that means?"

"Yes I do," said Balthazar, "That makes each ward more susceptible to the elements of the other wards, not to mention making them weaker once the first one is breached."

"Right," Jack said, "But it's always been so hard to breach the first one that no one has ever cared that much. The sheer amount of elemental magic it would take to break one in the first place is astronomical."

Dave rubbed his temples. This was beginning to sound like a logic problem. He had never been good at those.

"So the earth and wind wards would be more susceptible to fire and water," said Dave, "So they're going to try to breach the first ward."

"Sort of," Drake said, "When Horvath invaded, this was somethin' even** I** studied, he took the first one on at the doors. Made it more difficult for him because he was further away from the first one. They're going to the source."

There was a long silence.

"And the first ward would be?" asked Dave.

"The foundation," Bianca said flatly, "Are you saying that they've been tunneling under us and we didn't know it?"

"Sorry, but yeah," Drake said, "They got some fire specialists in from down in Asia. They want to use it to break the firs' ward and launch an invasion of the buildin'. If it's successful they're heroes. If it's a good attempt an' they kill important people, then they're heroes. It's a win-win for them and a lose-lose for us."

"Us?" asked Dave sarcastically.  
The look Drake fixed him with was cold and furious.

"Yeah Wonder Boy, us," he snapped, "In case you haven't noticed I've thrown my lot with you. So unless you wanna get baked then you're gonna have to trust me, just a little bit. Go back to hating me when it's over."  
Dave opened his mouth to respond but Balthazar shook his head.

"We can't let this go Dave," he said, "As much as this moron is…a moron, we don't have much of a choice but to trust him."

"Lucky us," Dave muttered, "We're playing with fire here."

"Literally," smirked Drake happily.


	55. Prompt 96: Suspension

96. Suspension

Waiting was half the battle. Balthazar had taught him that when they were going into advanced combat spells. He just had to stay steady, standing next to the master who had begun teaching him these things. Dave had brought Excalibur, although he didn't think that it would come to that. Few others had brought weapons. Veronica was there too. They were the three highest ranking Masters among the Merlinians, they were where the fighting was to be the thickets.

Drake had explained where they would come in. Ashley and Bianca had gone down earlier and collapsed several of the tunnels. Some of them were too enforced with wards and magic. It would take weeks to take them down and they only had a few hours. They hoped that the Morganians would think that there had just been a cave in. If they thought that then they would come anyway, out of the tunnel where they'd find three of the most powerful sorcerers that the world had produced.

Upstairs the twins were on stand-by in case there was a medical emergency, along with Drake and Craig. Drake was still injured, although he could fight if the need was dire enough. Dave didn't know how he felt about him up there with Becky. He had wanted Becky to stay away but she was needed for her abilities. She had already told them which tunnels could be collapsed and given them predictions on who would be coming through.

Besides, Balthazar and Veronica were too worried about Lorna to leave her at home. If she was alone she would be a target, as would Becky. So they had left their precious daughter in her care, right next to the teleporting objects. If things went bad then the twins and Becky were supposed to leave immediately. Everyone hoped that it wouldn't come to that.

He thought about her then, standing there in that odd state. The look she had given him before he went downstairs had been devastating. The last time they had parted for a magical incident neither of them had almost come back. Dave was painfully aware of that and knew no way to reassure her that things would be different this time. He had tried though.

Closing his eyes he remembered holding her. She hadn't been crying, Becky didn't cry so much anymore. However, he could feel her fingers digging into his back.

"Careful, okay?" she said.

"Don't worry," Dave said, "Prime Merlinian remember?"

He had meant it as a joke but all he heard was her take a shuddering breath. She pulled away and kissed him before letting him go.

"Don't do anything stupid," she said.

Dave nodded. Becky swallowed before turning back to Lorna, whose mother was holding her some yards away. She picked her up. Veronica said something to her, stroking Lorna's hair and kissing her forehead. Becky nodded, she understood the great charge that they were entrusted to them.

Ashley had come up from behind him. Her face was strained, tight. She had been in close battles before. Unlike Dave she had spent her entire apprenticeship fighting battles where her life was at risk. However, the line of her mouth was wobbling a little. She looked past him at the hospital room and then back at him. Something told him that she understood how he felt, at least a little.

Balthazar had clapped him on the shoulder then and they had gone downstairs, Veronica following. From what he'd read Balthazar had been in a good deal of melee combat, as had Veronica. They had never had a child upstairs though. The suppressed fury at being attacked with their child so close was apparent in them. Everyone had something to lose.

A sound came from one of the tunnels. Balthazar motioned to him and he quickly hid behind a pillar. The basement of the Chrysler Building was full of ancient supports, crowded with cobwebs. All of the magonisis had been shooed from the building, electrical problems they were told, which made sure that none of them would be interrupting them.

Breathing in he looked up to where Ashley, Bianca, Jack, and Michael were. They were hidden behind the concrete but he knew that Ashley had a slit to fire arrows from. The place was well fortified. If they were lucky than the fighting wouldn't go beyond the basement. If they were very lucky than there would be no Morganians escaping. They couldn't let this kind of information on street level. Mind-wiping spells would be needed in the best case scenario. If they weren't lucky then emergency teleport would be needed after all.

Two Morganians walked out of the tunnels. They wore fire-proof gear and were quickly followed by four others. More came. Breathing in Dave looked over at Balthazar for confirmation. He shook his head. Some more came in, coming dangerously close to where Dave was. He looked at Balthazar again. This time he nodded.

Dave leapt out from behind the pillar, a plasma bolt already in his hand. It hit the nearest man. After that he let rapid fire go until the nearest targets were knocked out. Arrows hit a few of them, letting him know that Ashley was doing her job. Other spells rained around him and he saw Bianca vault over her hiding place.

A sword came at him, which Dave suspended in the air. Another came and he quickly drew Excalibur. It cut straight through his sword. He hit him on the head with the hilt of his sword. Another swipe of the sword hit someone in the shoulder. Blood spurted in Dave's face, momentarily disorienting him.

He pushed on though, spells flying and sword swinging. For one moment he was fighting next to Veronica. Her face was contorted with the strain of the fight, but she was also working furiously. Dave had only a moment to be impressed with his Master's wife. The next moment she was gone and he was completely surrounded again. The opposing numbers were dwindling though. Victory seemed inevitable.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a Morganian split. Bianca had shown him pictures earlier and he thought that he recognized Simon. With growing horror he saw him head upstairs, ducking and weaving in the crowd. He wasn't trying to break down the wards. He knew that that war was over. However, Simon was trying to find a way to cut his losses. He couldn't know who was upstairs, but he might be trying to find some sort of documents. If he ran into Becky or Lorna…

Without thinking Dave pushed through the crowds, following him. He ran at a break-neck speed, knowing that he couldn't allow him to get there. Simon went through the door with Dave hot on his heels. About halfway through the next hallway Simon noticed him. He fired plasma bolts at him and Dave deflected them with a shield.

Simon kept firing and ran into an elevator. Dave sped up but he ran into the closed doors. He banged on it once.

"Come on!" he screamed.

Looking around he saw the stairs. There was no other thought in his head besides getting there as soon as possible. His lungs burned furiously and he felt his physical limitations. Throwing open the door to the top floor he ran into a surprised looking Craig. Dave didn't give any explanation, just bolted towards the elevators.

The doors opened.

"Everyone get back!" yelled Dave.

He concentrated and Simon was given a face full of fire. To his credit he put up a powerful vacuum spell and threw it back at him. Dave sidestepped it. He saw the twins and Becky come out of one of the side doors at the commotion. Lorna was in Becky's arms and they stared at what he knew must've been a horrible scene.

For a minute time stopped. Lorna's features were obscured. Dave got the strange feeling that he was looking at the future again, that it was their child. It was possible if he didn't get himself killed. There was no way that he could afford to, not now, not ever. He wanted that future so bad it ached.

Time came flooding back and gave Dave a sudden clarity. He kicked Simon in the leg, pushing him back into the elevator. Dave leapt after him and hit him with the butt of Excalibur. Behind him the doors closed. Blood came from his head and the two of them were in a physical struggle. However, Dave was all but spent. He couldn't let him win though. Not after he had seen what would be harmed if he failed.

He pushed at him with his magic, trying to keep Simon down. Simon pushed back with his aura and their rings locked. Dave didn't need his, but he felt good that it was there. It felt like he was getting strength from it. He was grateful for that. If there was one thing that he needed right then; it was strength.

The forces blew each other apart. Dave hit his head on the wall of the elevator and Simon left a dent in the wall. Scrambling back to his feet Dave cast a water suspension spell. Simon stopped, frozen in time, at least for the moment. He hit him with the butt of the sword again, knocking him out before he could get out of it. Breathing hard he froze him magically. The spell would last for a day, in the very least.

The doors to the elevator opened again. Dave looked out and Becky ran into his arms. He briefly registered Craig holding Lorna, and then he buried his face in her hair.

"How's everyone?" he managed.

"They just told us it's safe, no casualties to speak of…something like that…" she said, clutching him, "Are you alright?"

Dave could feel his muscles tearing apart from the ligaments. He was lightheaded and felt like his bones had been removed and replaced with plastic straws. Everything insided him screamed.

"Fine," he murmured, "Fine."


	56. Prompt 51: Tesla

51. Tesla

"It's a shame you're going to be leaving this place," Becky said as she walked down the stairs to the lab.

Dave clutched the hand rail and came down after her. Several of his muscles had been torn in the battle only around a week prior. Everything hurt despite the twins best skills. He was also exhausted most of the time, which Balthazar said was caused by his overextending his magic for too long.

"What do you mean?"

"You're graduating soon," she said.

"So are you."

"I haven't forgotten about that, believe me," she said, "But I know your hook-up with the professor won't work enough to let you keep it forever."

"Yeah," he sighed, "I presented that project last week you know."

"I do," replied Becky, holding the door open for him, "You talked about it non-stop you know."

"Sorry about that," said Dave sheepishly, "It was kind of a big deal."

"I gathered," she said as she went down the final flight of stairs, "You're going to have to start cleaning up in here you know."

"Don't remind me," he said, "I hurt enough as it is."

"Fine," Becky said, kissing him on the forehead, "Now, what did you want to bring me down here for?"

He waved his hand towards the center of the room. The cage was in place, as were his Tesla coils. She looked at them and then back at him.

"I am going to have to start cleaning up soon," he said, "But…what do you say? One last time?"

Smiling she walked towards it. Becky had to open the door for him again as they got in. He started tapping the keys on the computer. They were familiar to him, even more so than the back of his hand. Each press of a key brought him back to that afternoon two years ago when he had first told Becky to 'step inside his cage'.

Dave had had a lot of time to think when he was lying in a hospital bed in the Chrysler Building. It wasn't an enviable state, especially with Mr. Tried-to-kill-me-in-the-bathroom-but-he's-got-a-change-of-heart next to him. That had been awkward in the extreme, especially since it turned out that he snored.

When he had gotten out his first stop had been to Balthazar's house. Veronica was with Lorna in the other room, understanding that there were such things as 'boy talk'. Dave was always grateful to her for that. It would be hard enough without extra people. They had had a small conversation about little things. Then Dave had asked the question that had been on his mind since the first time he saw Becky hold Lorna.

"How do you propose to someone?" he'd blurted.

Balthazar had been drinking a cup of coffee at the time. He dropped it and the ceramic shattered on the tile. Dave had stepped backwards to avoid the shards and hot coffee. Balthazar let it splatter all over him. Even after that he didn't so much as flinch away, just stared at Dave with dead eyes. Every now and then one of them twitched.

"Did I hear you correctly?" asked Balthazar.

"…yeah."

"I really wish I had another cup of coffee right now," said Balthazar, "That way I could drop it again."

"Look," Dave said, waving his hand and repairing the cup, "You're the only one I know who's done this so you're the only one I can go to."

"Dave…my proposal…" he ran his hands through his hair, "It was very different from anything you'll try to do."

With another wave of his hands Dave cleaned up the coffee.

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I **do**."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, Veronica and I started courting with the understanding that I was going to one day propose. That's sort of what courting means, differentiating it from dating," said Balthazar, "I just hadn't done it officially yet. Veronica was, in a way, considered spoken for from the day we told Merlin about our relationship."

Dave grimaced.

"That sounds…arcane."

"It was very modern back then," Balthazar said, "When I asked her officially…it was on the night you defeated Morgana."

"Uh-huh," said Dave, pulling a pen out of his pocket and a scrap of paper, "So what happened?"

Balthazar started staring at him again.

"You're going to take notes on this," he said blankly.

"Yup."

"You're really going to stand there and take notes."

"I just said I was."

Rolling his eyes Balthazar said;

"The necklace I gave her, it was a form of an engagement gift back then. Sort of like the ring is today. They were very popular, made fashionable when King Gareth gave one to his betrothed when she arrived for the wedding. Veronica recognized it as soon as I presented it to her. She moved her hair out of the way and I put it on. That signified acceptance and we were officially engaged after that."

Dave stopped writing and fixed Balthazar with a quizzical look.

"That was it?"

"We're not noisy people; unlike just about everyone these days," Balthazar said, picking up the coffee cup and putting it on the counter, "We don't need a lot of chatter. I think that's how we're alike. But, if you remember, I did tell you that it wasn't going to be able to pertain to anything you'd do."

"I just figured you were being…yourself really."

"Meaning?" snapped Balthazar.

"Reticent," said Dave, "But…you're right. I don't think that…I mean, you didn't say a word. How were you doing this, through telepathy?"

"Don't be absurd," said Balthazar, "Sometimes people just don't need to say anything, they can just understand. But I'm sad to say you're on your own with this one. Everyone, except me, that I knew who proposed to someone went through lengthy negotiations with their parents beforehand."

"Let's not do that," shuddered Dave, trying to push the image of him doing that with Becky's mom out of his mind, "But…thanks for…trying I guess."

"Any time," Balthazar said, "But I'm guessing you at least have a ring picked out and paid for. A repossessed ring isn't the way to start out an engagement."

"Don't worry, I settled for something I could afford but I think she'll like it," said Dave.

"Right," said Balthazar, "Good luck."

"Thanks."

As he turned to walk out he could've sworn that Balthazar muttered;

"You're going to need it."

Needless to say Dave was wishing for luck right then. He wanted all the luck in the world. Tesla was always lucky for him, good old Tesla. That was one of the many reasons he'd put the coils on again. His palms got sweaty as the opening bars of their song played. Dave could think of no better way to propose, which might just be an excuse for how unimaginative he was. However, this had been the site of their first date. It felt appropriate.

After a few seconds his hand dug around in his pocket. He could feel the black velvet box and grasped it tightly. Very slowly he took it out of his pocket, rehearsing his speech in his head. They were young, but their love was something special. Something to that effect, he only hoped that he wouldn't make too much of an idiot of himself. It was apparent to both of them that what they had was permanent though. Becky had said it best herself; he'd never want anyone else but the woman besides him. Dave wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

Swallowing he snapped it open. Dave could see Becky turning at the noise and he held it out to her. She smiled at him before looking down. The smile froze on her face before slowly slipping away. Her expression had changed in a manner of seconds and Dave swallowed again. He was fumbling for the words that he had thought up, but they'd fallen out of his mind. All he had was his own strange silence now.

Becky was the one who broke it. She pulled him closer to her and pressed her lips to his. Her hands clutched at the back of his head, ruffling his hair. They parted for a second, just long enough for Dave to take a gulp of air. Then they were together again and he was losing himself in here. It appeared that some things really didn't need to be said.


	57. Prompt 97: Truth

97. Truth

Drake didn't like that he hadn't been able to participate in the defense. His mind was on the basement throughout the entire attack. Most of the time was spent with him drumming his fingers on his bed post, wishing that he was downstairs. He was relieved when it was over because events had been driving him mad.

He had found it amusing, at least a little, when Wonder Boy was wheeled in next to him. To Drake's inexperienced eyes he didn't look too bad, but what did Drake know when all was said and done? He was also thoroughly exhausted. Drake had waited patiently for him to come to. When he did he couldn't help but say;

"Guess my info's pretty solid, eh?"

The look Dave had given him was irritated beyond belief. Smirking in response Drake had leaned backwards. He might not be a Morganian anymore, but he was still an asshole. His response was much less mirthful when they brought Ashley up, even if it was just for a broken wrist. That had been a fight to conceal just how worried he was. She'd probably get pissed at him if he let it show too much.

Days had passed since then. He was going to be able to go home soon, although far after Dave and Ashley had been released. Although Ashley visited every day he still hadn't been allowed to use his leg just yet. The idea of being wheeled around humiliated him so he stubbornly decided to stay in his room. However, the Merlinians didn't have cable so that meant things could get boring at times.

Sometimes, right before he went to sleep, he stayed awake and stared at the ceiling. Drake's mission had been accomplished. That meant that, like Bianca had told him, he'd be absorbed into the Merlinian group. He didn't know how to feel about that exactly, had never thought about it except that one period before he and Ashley were together.

For one thing it would sure put Wonder Boy and Balthazar in a stink. He might go through with it just to see their faces. Still, the idea didn't seem that attractive. Jack and Bianca had stood up for him, but he knew that Craig and Michael still had their doubts. So did the parents of the twins, although the twins seemed to like him well enough.

Still, he was going to do it. Drake felt like he deserved that consideration from them now. He'd been injured in the line of duty and he felt like it was time for his version of peace. Besides, he couldn't imagine leaving New York. Ashley was there, was still there, and would always be there. She'd taken a vow after all.

That thought was also one that bounced around in his head. He'd never been in a serious or monogamous relationship before. Drake had often thought about how unusual their pairing was. She was the poster girl for the hard-working and talented Merlinain. He was the poster boy for reform. It was like a James Dean movie.

The day before he could go back Bianca walked in. Drake had just put on his shoes for the first time in over a week when she did. His hands were fumbling with the laces. He'd always preferred having shoes with zippers on them so he had never been good at tying knots. Being out of practice wasn't helping him any.

"All better then?" asked Bianca.

"Yup," he said, finally tying one, "Bone's all mended. Them twins can be scary, but they're good."

"Yeah," she agreed.

She sat down on the hospital bed that had once held Wonder Boy. Her continuing presence was making him uncomfortable.

"Anyway, thanks for coming to wish me luck," Drake said, "I'm off."

He started to get up but she held out a hand. Sighing he sat back down.

"That was a pathetic attempt to get out of talking to me," said Bianca, "So just shut up and listen."

Rolling his eyes he did so.

"I want to congratulate you on how well you handled the situation," Bianca said, "This was your first undercover job. You showed remarkable skill. You have a talent for this. Over five operatives have tried to infiltrate the Morganians since I was an apprentice and none have lasted more than two months."

"Well thanks-" he started.

Something in his brain started to whir. The cogs spun frantically before clicking together into a horrifying piece of clockwork.

"What the hell didja mean this was my **first** undercover job?" he asked, his fists clenching tightly.

Bianca started to scratch at her nicotine patch.

"I think you know exactly what I mean," she said, "You're very good at this. There was barely anything for me to teach you."

Before Drake could protest she pressed on.

"The Massachusetts Merlinians have notified me of a situation, asking if I had any specialists. I'd think it'd take two years or so to rectify. That's a generous estimation," she said, "Others as well. Not many people in this skill set survive. Only the ones that are very good at it do. It would be a shame to let that talent of yours go to waste when you could be saving lives. You should understand."

A burning anger started to rise in his chest.

"Oh, I do," said Drake, his voice low, "But, if ya' care to remember, that wasn't what you told me. It wasn't what we agreed on-"

"The agreement was for me not to let you rot in some morgue," Bianca snapped, "And, I'm sorry Drake, I did have you pegged as 'doesn't work well with others'. You don't like working in groups and I was always under the idea that you didn't want to stay."

Drake wanted to yell and rage at her, but in some way she was right. Still angry, but a little at himself now, he replied;

"Listen, Bianca, you said yourself I'm not the same. I've changed an' I dun't want to spend the rest of me life runnin' around and fixin' other people's problems."

She folded her hands in her lap and stared at him hard.

"To be honest we don't need any more Merlinians here right now," she said, "But what we do need is specialists like yourself. Surely danger and living that life appeals to you."

"No," he said, trying to push his doubts away.

"Oh come on," spat Bianca, "Face the facts; you liked the way you were going on, all spy-stuff. It was probably the same damn thrill you got from doing those cheap party tricks on stage. Admit that, at least to yourself."

He turned away, holding onto the bed rails.

"You always knew you couldn't stay," Bianca said, "You're a Merlinian, just like I said you'd be. That's undeniable. You've been taken into the fold, like I said you would be. I never said that would make you a New York Merlinian."

Bile rose into his throat. She was right, of course she was. Still, he couldn't let her do this to him. He couldn't be used like a pawn. Drake Stone was no one's pawn, not anymore.

"No," he said.

Her fingers drummed on the rail of the opposite hospital bed.

"This is about Ashley, isn't it?"

Drake didn't say anything.

"It's not a fairy tale," she said, "You two are young. But it's not a romance for the ages. Would you rather do something productive with your life or waste your potential for a relationship that might not work out?"

"Bianca…" he said threateningly.

He could feel her surprise. He'd never called her by her first name before. Bianca continued to press on though.

"And do you know what?" asked Bianca, "If you asked her then she'd tell you to go too. It would be hard for her to say, but she would say it."

"I'll lose her," Drake heard himself say.

"Maybe, maybe not."

"I lose her and I'll lose something good in me," he said, again feeling strangely detached, "I won't be as good as I am now. Give me too long…"

Drake heaved a shuddering sigh.

"You know I'm telling the truth. This is the choice you should make for so many reasons," Bianca said quietly, "You can come back from time to time, not too often for security. But still, you could come back…"

He turned around slowly then and headed towards the door. His steps felt ponderous and heavy. He stopped before going out.

"You disgus' me, you know that right?" he said.

"Yes. It doesn't surprise me," said Bianca, "Going to carry that around like a child for the rest of your life, or are you actually going to take the situation like a man?"

"You're always saying things like that," Drake snorted.

"This doesn't give me any pleasure," Bianca said, "I don't have any compulsions about sending you out, but it's going to hurt Ashley. She's my student. I care about her."

"Whatever," Drake said, "You migh' have been tellin' the truth, you migh' be right. But I'm never gonna forget this. Dun't think I'm ever gonna forgive it either."

"That sounds strangely Morganian."

When he laughed it was a bitter sound.

"Who do 'ya think you're talkin' to?"


	58. Prompt 59: Candy

59. Candy

Dave walked over to the phone and held it in his hand. His palms were sweating as he stared at it and it felt slippery in his hands.

"Something wrong?" asked Becky, coming into the room with a catalogue.

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring grin. They were at his apartment. He had been trying to do some last minute work on his spells while she was there…to be there.

"Nothing, nothing," he said, "What've you got there?"

She laughed and turned it so he could see. Dave sighed and shook his head.

"It's Veronica," she explained, "When you told them the other day she nearly broke down my door. There were the usual congratulations, but she also came and gave me all the stuff she used to plan **her** wedding."

Dave groaned.

"A little early to be thinking about that, isn't it? We haven't even set a date yet," he said, "We just got engaged last week."

"I know," she said, turning her book over so the ring showed, "Six days ago, six days exactly. I find myself moving it around so more people can see it. Even the way I hold my coffee is different."

She gave him a shy smile.

"I've already told all of my friends, so no backing out of this now."

"If anyone backs out; it won't be me. It'll be you when you realize you're marrying a science nerd," Dave said.

His words sounded awkward on his tongue. He was going to get married. Just…sometimes it was too much for his mind to handle.

"Don't be like that," she said, "And you know what? Most of this stuff is useful, and is actually going to be very helpful. There're good local florists and caterers listed according to price, if we're getting married in New York-"

"Where else?" he asked.

"Alright, so it's a **ton** of useful information," laughed Becky, "I mean, look, there's this shop that does personalized candy."

He peered over her shoulder at the book.

"Why do you want personalized candy?" he asked.

"I don't, but I might want it later," shrugged Becky, "I mean, they can put your names in it and everything. Looks very professional, and it's better than putting the cake in boxes. Remember what happened when Balthazar and Veronica did that?"

"I forgot about it and it went bad on my counter," Dave said, pinching the bridge of his nose, "So yeah, candy might be the way to go."

"I'd say a little more than might," said Becky, "But we'll deal with that stuff later. We haven't even graduated yet. But I'm not doing a long engagement. If it was up to me-"

She leaned in so her lips were right next to his ear. A burning sensation started in his stomach as she whispered;

"-we'd have been married about two seconds after you asked."

He felt his grip on the phone start to lessen. Putting it down he reached around her neck and pulled her a little closer. Their lips met and before he knew it they were up against the wall and he had moved from her lips to her neck. He could feel her forehead on his, her lips curved upwards in a smile.

The phone rang. They jumped apart, as nervous as teenagers whose parents had walked into the room. Dave looked at the phone nervously. This was what he'd been dreading.

"Guess you should get that," Becky said, panting a little.

He swallowed.

"It's my mom."

She blinked at him.

"How do you know that?" she asked.

"She usually calls around this week, asks what I'm doing, that sort of thing," he said, "You know, parent-stuff."

The phone kept ringing.

"Well?" asked Becky.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to pick it up?" Becky said, pointing to the phone.

"She, uh, I didn't tell her that I was planning on, you know," said Dave, knowing that he had a sheepish expression on his face.

"You didn't tell your **mother **that you were planning on getting married?" exclaimed Becky, "Really?"

He shrugged, almost ignoring the phone by this point.

"I didn't know how it was going to go, okay?" Dave said, "I was nervous just thinking about it."

Becky looked incredulous. She looked around and started to smile a little.

"I told you that I wouldn't want anyone but you a week or two beforehand and you thought I'd say no?" she asked, "Really Dave?"

"Saying that is one thing. Getting married is another," he said, "I mean, you might have thought we were too young and…and…"

"Alright, I understand," said Becky, "But you're going to miss the call soon."

He looked at the phone doubtfully.

"She generally calls twice to make sure I wasn't just being lazy," said Dave, "She knows me too well."

Her fingers ruffled his hair.

"You're too cute sometimes," she said, "Now tell your mother you're getting married. Go on, do it. I'll be right here."

Sighing he turned back to the phone. It had stopped ringing but, like he'd told Becky, his mother was persistent. The phone started ringing again and he picked it up.

"Hey mom," he said.

"You're getting slow," his mother laughed on the other end, "I'm going to have to try it three times in the future."

"Don't think so," Dave answered, "Becky's better at answering the phone than I am."

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

"You're…moving in together?" she asked, her voice sounding uncertain.

His mind suddenly flashed red. From the scant information he knew about his father he knew that the two of them had been living together when he was conceived. As soon as he found out she was pregnant he fought for the property and all but kicked her out. Dave's mother had always voiced her doubts about such a relationship and the instability it could cause.

"No," he said hurriedly, "No, nothing like that. It's just…she's going to be around a lot more."

On the other end of the phone he could hear his mother exhale in relief.

"So, what does it mean?" she asked, "Summer break coming up, lots of time for hanging out with the girlfriend?"

"Sort of," he said.

"What does sort of mean?"

"Um…"

Becky wrapped her arms around his waist. Her head rested in the crook of his neck and he felt a surge of certainty.

"I asked her to marry me," he said, "She said yes."

For a minute there was another long stretch of silence. He wondered if she'd heard him at all. Then he could hear his mother whoop so loudly that he had to pull the phone from his ear for a minute. Even Becky had to pull away a little to avoid the deafening noise. When his mother was happy she sure was happy.

"You're serious?" she asked.

"Yeah, I wouldn't joke about this," he said.

"And you didn't even tell me," his mother said, "Some son you are. A little warning would've been nice. But it's great. When's it going to be?"

"Mom, it was just six days ago!" he protested.

"So, get cracking," laughed his mother, "Did she pick out where she was going to get the personalized candy yet?"

He stared blankly ahead.

"Really?" he asked, "You hear wedding and think candy?"

"Why not?"

Becky was chuckling into his neck. Her breath was tickling him and making him laugh a little, but he tried to keep a straight face.

"Well, it's candy."

"Yeah," his mother said, "It's candy. You can get your names in it you know."

Rolling his eyes he looked at Becky out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, I know."


	59. Prompt 53: Masquerade

_**A/N: **__A few people left comments about the personalized candy I mentioned in the last chapter. I saw it on a wedding show and apparently it's a popular thing. They really can get the names right on the candy. Go figure. _

53. Masquerade

"I can't believe you wanted to see that movie," snorted Drake, "I mean, wha' was it? An action flick? Superhero? Wha'?"

The two of them walked out of the theater and into the lobby.

"_The Green Hornet _is technically a superhero movie," Ashley said, rolling her eyes, "And the trailers made it look pretty cool."

"Never believe the trailers."

"And it wasn't even that bad, it was okay really-"

"It was confused," protested Drake as they walked out of the theater, "Didn' know what it was. An' your cinemas are filthy, didja know that?"

"It's called popcorn and sometimes it gets on the floor," she said, "People get excited and then they throw it-"

"That movie was nothin' to get excited about, believe you me."

"I don't think you quite understand the American Theater-going experience," she said, sighing theatrically.

"I get it. I just don't like it. I mean, wha' about all those tossers in the back?" he asked, gesticulating wildly, "They just let people talk like that through films? I had half a mind to blast 'em into tomorrow."

"You're a helpless pessimist," she said.

"So glad you noticed."

"Whatever," Ashley said, linking her arm with his, "So, where to now?"

He looked around him, trying to get his bearings. He'd grown up in a small village a few miles outside of London, only ever going into the city once for a talent competition. Big cities didn't come easy to him. It was a byword among his aides and managers how he could get lost in a closet. That wasn't true. He'd had a perfectly good reason for being in that closet. He just couldn't remember it.

"Not dinner," he decided, "They said that popcorn was a medium."

"It was."

"No it wasn't," he insisted, "They lied. That wasn't even a popcorn. That was a **bucket **they just happened to put popcorn in."

"You don't have to eat all of it," Ashley said, "What you don't eat you just spill on the floor."

"And we're in a self-perpetuatin' cycle."

Smiling she kissed him on the chin. That made him smile. Her height only allowed her to meet his lips if he tilted his head downwards or she stood a little on her toes. He had to admit it was endearing to be with a girl where he could nuzzle the top of her head whenever he felt like it. Ashley always used a blackberry shampoo that made her red-brown hair so soft, such a dream to hide his face in.

It would just be one of the many things that he'd miss about her.

"Let's go home then," she said, "Hard to get a taxi at this time of night. Feel up to walking?"

"Why not?" he shrugged.

"Just thought you'd complain about it."

"And I will," said Drake, "I'll say it's too long or somethin' like that. But only after we've gone for too far to turn back."

"What would life be without your sarcasm?" laughed Ashley.

She'd find out soon enough, not something he wanted to see.

"Well, it looks like it's a nice night out," she said, "I can take some of your complaining without hitting you."

"Like it rough eh?"

"I should smack you just for saying that," Ashley said.

"You're certainly chipper tonight darlin'," said Drake, "Do you get off on bad movies or something."

"For the last time, it wasn't a bad movie," said Ashley, "And why shouldn't I be happy? Last day of my last term, my last final. First day of the summer tomorrow. First day of nearly three months of undiluted leisure time."

Nearly three months of waiting for the axe to drop for him. It was never really very far from his thoughts, the knowledge that he'd be leaving soon for Massachusetts. Sometimes he would manage to forget about it for days, but it always came back. In her own way Bianca was being merciful, not sending him off directly. She certainly had every right to do so but he had the feeling that she pitied him.

Drake didn't like anyone's pity, not normally. However, he was grateful for it. He was also grateful that Bianca hadn't announced it yet. If she announced it publicly then he wouldn't be able to hide it from Ashley anymore. If he couldn't hide it from her, then he wasn't sure how he would be able to keep up his masquerade.

As long as it wasn't out in the open he could pretend that everything was fine. Things could continue on with their banter and flirting and kissing just as long as he didn't say anything. It could be tearing him up inside, but if the outside was somehow calm then he could keep things up. If he saw the same hurt that he was feeling reflected in her eyes then there was no hope, none at all. He was a good pretender though.

"Congratulations," he said, although the movie had been his treat just for that purpose, "When do you find out about the grades?"

"Sometime next month," said Ashley, "But I've got a good feeling about them."

"For all of the hair you pulled out stressin' over 'em they'd better be," Drake said, "Your hair's too pretty to end up all over the floor. Boy Wonder even had to help you with some of your sciences, so I expect great thin's. Otherwise I know who to blame."

"You do know that Dave hates it when you call him that?"

"Why do you think I do?" he laughed, "He already hates me, no point in tryin' to curry his favor by simperin'."

Ashley looked at him with amusement.

"There's no reason for you to actively seek out his disfavor."

"I get everyone's disfavor," laughed Drake.

She leaned her head on his shoulder as they walked, although he knew that that made it harder for her to walk.

"You're losing your touch then," she said, a touch of smugness in her tone."

"An' why doya say that luv?"

"You haven't managed to drive me off yet," said Ashley, "And you can have a hell of a time trying."

He would though. Bianca sending him away might be a blessing in disguise. Drake would do something to essentially destroy their relationship. He'd be an asshole again, like he had when they had first gotten together. A clean break would be better than having something like that happen, then him sabotaging himself yet again.

That was what he kept trying to tell himself. It sounded like a good argument. Yet, it felt like he was just trying to console himself. The truth was that he probably would destroy things for himself. Ashley was hard to let go though. All he wanted to do was keep her, as selfish as that sounded.

His hand moved of its own accord and went under her chin. Drake tilted her head up to his and kissed her. They were out on the street, but it was actually a short walk to her apartment. No one was there, but he would have done this in a crowded stadium. He didn't care who was watching anymore, he doubted if he ever had.

Drake's tongue moved between her lips, deepening the kiss. He pulled her closer to him, knowing that the masquerade was failing, he was failing. Still he pulled her closer, tangling one of her hands in that soft hair, feeling the warmth of her skin. For just that minute everything tumbled out and he didn't have to hide the truth anymore.

The moment ended and he pulled away. Ashley was looking at him, breathless and a little confused.

"What was that for?" she asked.

He could've told her then. However, the moment when the words would've come from his lips had passed when they had been pressed to hers. Instead he sighed and shook his head.

"You tell an asshole like me that I haven't driven you off," Drake said, "An' that it's gonna be difficult, an' you don't expect me to show my appreciation?"

She blushed deeply and he kissed her forehead. The masquerade was back on now. When it would end, no one knew.


	60. Prompt 57: Book

57. Book

The books were on the table in the living area of the Arcana Cabana, so were the binders. Veronica had meticulously planned out her wedding, even though that would have fewer guests than Dave and hers. She didn't want a lot of stuff leaving the apartment though, so Becky was there doing it herself. Veronica herself had to go out; Tabitha had had an incident at school which, since she was her master, it was her responsibility to clean up.

She hadn't known just how much there was to do, and there didn't seem to be enough time to do even half of it. Still, neither of them were fond of the idea of a long engagement. They hoped to have it all done within two months, something easier said than done in the hustle and bustle of their daily lives.

Becky and Dave had jobs now. With their diplomas awarded each had started their prospective careers. Currently Becky was temping; she had taken many business classes. There were a few radio station positions that she was looking into, but nothing more solid. Dave had been a prodigy in his class and his professor had been recommending him to research institutes as early as his freshman year.

Ashley had offered cheerfully to help. The girl was going to end up as one of her bridesmaids, they both knew it. Many of Becky's friends were invited as well, but she had to admit she was closer to the young girl. Her and Jill would be the bridesmaids, that had been her final decision. Veronica was the maid of honor, although she had protested at first that a married woman wasn't supposed to be the maid of honor. Something about an old tradition.

She had agreed to it in the end though. Dave had offered Balthazar the position of best man, although Balthazar had waved it away. His protests were similar to Veronica's but with one catch; someone had to look after Lorna. Besides, the two of them weren't exactly friends. It was like asking your father to be your best man. The only reason Dave had been Balthazar's was because he'd needed someone to fill the position.

He was still going to participate in the wedding though. There was no way that someone who was as involved in their lives as Balthazar was would be left out. She had plans on how he was going to fulfill that obligation, if he'd let her. This wasn't exactly something that you could force someone to do.

Becky leaned over the table and rested her head in her hands. It had been a long week. They'd just sent the invitations out, after arguments over color schemes and the million other things that needed to be put on them. The guest list alone had been hammered out and redone at least a million times. Unlike Balthazar and Veronica some of their friends were magonisi, so the wedding reception couldn't be in the Chrysler building.

They decided on Wisteria Gable in the end. It was a huge house, the lobby big enough for the reception. When she was young she could get lost in that thing. She still liked the idea of having the reception there. It would be like her grandmother would be there, and that was reason enough for her to want to go.

However, that wasn't what was on her mind at the moment. She had, with great trepidation, filled out an invitation for her mother. Dave had been with her while she did it. He had noticed how her hands were trembling and had offered to do it for her. Becky had refused, knowing that it was her responsibility.

It had been sent out yesterday so there was only a slim chance that it had reached her mother by that day. Becky had no way of knowing how things stood. Still, she couldn't help but think about it. That was how she came to be at the table, all alone, with a slim volume embossed in gold and entitled _The Poetry of Robert Brown_.

When her grandmother had died she had bequeathed Becky three envelopes. She had given a similar gift to Balthazar and Veronica on the day of their wedding. Dates were written over the seal, and she had recalled that one of the dates was that day. There were few things that she could think that it was about; Dave had already proposed to her. The only thing that she could guess was that it pertained to the invitations.

Becky had kept them in the poetry volume, making sure that they were well-hidden. Not even Dave knew about them, although she did plan to tell him. They had always felt a little too personal to share, but they were about to be married so she probably should. Who knew what they pertained to?

They were making her nervous. Becky had become more adept at seeing the future in years past, but she never went further than five years ahead. Sometimes it was just about investments or something like that. Most recently she had helped coordinate the defense of the Chrysler building during the siege. That had been her most practical administration of it, as well as her most stressful. Lives depended on her being right.

This was something new. Taking a deep breath she broke the seal of the envelope. Becky took out the folded pastel drawing and smoothed it out on the table. So far she had avoided looking directly at the drawing. Her palms were sweaty and she had to take another deep breath to coax herself into looking at it.

It showed her mother, somewhere tropical and nice judging from the palm trees in the background. She was holding Becky's invitation and looking strained. It seemed like she had just come to a painful decision, but one she was determined to hold to. A lighter was positioned under the invitation and flames were slowly licking up it. At the bottom of the page, in her grandmother's handwriting, were the words; _I'm sorry Becky_.

Becky started to cry. It felt like she was losing her mother all over again. She hadn't asked for an apology for all those years of being treated like she was inconsequential; just that her mother show up at her wedding. She hadn't thought it was much. Apparently that was too much to ask of her though.

Somewhere at the edge of her mind she heard the door open. She quickly started to wipe her eyes, trying to clean up the evidence as best she could.

"Veronica?" called Balthazar, "I just want to tell you that our daughter's throwing things again. I think she gets it from you-"

He stopped when he saw her in the kitchen. Becky put on a fake smile as fast as she could.

"Oh," he said, shifting Lorna's weight, "Hello. Do you know where Veronica is?"

"Yeah, Tabitha turned a bully into a frog at school," said Becky, "She should be back in an hour or so."

"Those twins," snorted Balthazar, "Anyway, let me guess; wedding stuff?"

"Veronica still has a lot of stuff left over from your wedding," she said, hoping that her eyes weren't tearstained, "We planned color schemes together and stuff, and she has some original paperwork here so I can see how it was done…"

"Say no more, she likes to organize things," Balthazar said, walking over to a small play pen and putting Lorna in it.

Lorna had started walking recently and had to be held down. The girl was vivacious, always trying to get from place to place by herself. As soon as he put her down she started banging on a few blocks. No wonder they had to hold her down. Balthazar smiled before walking past Becky.

"So, let me see here, cake stuff and-what's that?"

Becky looked down at the picture and quickly snatched it off the table. She folded it up and shoved it back into the envelope and the envelope back in the book. Slamming it shut she stuffed it into her purse. When she looked up at Balthazar his face was serious but sympathetic. She'd been too late. He'd known exactly what it was.

Sliding down into a seat he looked at her, waiting.

"She's not coming," Becky said bitterly.

"You don't have to say anything."

"Too late for that. It's not like I really thought that she'd come, just sort of hoped," she said, "At least I can tell Dave that we can scratch that name off the guest list."

Tears were starting to well up in her eyes but she shoved them down.

"It makes sense, sort of," she said, "We've both had parents that have let us down, Dave and I. His father, my mother, it's much the same thing."

Balthazar remained quiet. That was the good thing about him, and the bad thing.

"But we've each had someone step into that position for us. My grandmother for me, you for Dave."

He started and she gave him a sad smile.

"You can't get away from what you are to him," she said, "I don't think anyone's said it aloud…but we all kind of know it."

She struggled for words.

"Look, you're the closest thing that Dave has to a father," continued Becky, "And when I marry him, which makes you the closest thing I'll have to a father anymore."

Understanding was starting to come onto his face.

"Before you say anything, I just think I should ask you," Becky said, "I was wondering if you'd walk me down the aisle. Just…yeah."

Balthazar looked extremely uncomfortable.

"We can have someone else look after your daughter for a few minutes. Besides," she said, giving a lopsided smile, "I'll be your practice run so you'll get it right for Lorna."

His eyes shifted over to the girl in the play pen. She thought she saw a look of horror cross his face briefly before it was obliterated.

"Please?" tried Becky.

Still looking awkward Balthazar sighed.

"It's strange to think of it like this," he said, "Yet…have you broached the subject with Dave?"

"No, but I know he'd agree."

"He probably would, yes," muttered Balthazar.

Straightening up he looked her in the eye.

"It'd be an honor."


	61. Prompt 67: Sky

67. Sky

The gown reminded Becky of clouds. Well, clouds that weren't in the sky that day. All of the clouds outside were gray and full of rain. On a sunny day it would remind her of clouds. It was big, poofy, and looked incredibly easy to burry ones face in. However, like clouds, it was filmy to the touch, almost like gauze.

In the mirror's reflection Becky moved back and forth a bit.

"Beautiful," Veronica said.

Becky thought so too, but she figured that it would be too odd saying something like that. She pushed her hair up, trying to get an idea of how it would look on the day.

"Are you doing a veil?" asked Ashley.

"Not a cathedral one," Becky said, cocking her head at the girl in the mirror, "I was planning on wearing my hair up so I figured I could get one that goes down to my hips though. It'd look good with this."

Placing her hands on her hips she felt the bodice of the gown. It was speckled with seed pearls, but not overdone. Unlike Veronica's there were no straps which left her shoulders and neck bare. Perhaps some sort of silver necklace would go good, or maybe just a white satin ribbon around her throat.

She twirled around in the gown, getting an idea for skirt length. Becky couldn't see her feet under the A-line of the skirt, which she figured wouldn't be so bad after she had high heels on. Dave wasn't too tall so she had been careful to pick out shoes that wouldn't make her tower over him at their wedding.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the sales associate looking at her anxiously. The woman need not have worried. This was the one, it really was.

"This is it," she announced.

Ashley started clapping politely. Veronica got out a camera and snapped a picture.

"For your children to see one day," Veronica explained.

Admittedly the idea of taking pictures for children yet unborn made Becky feel a little strange. Then again, Veronica had had her take pictures and now she had a daughter. That had been a different wedding parlor though. Too many memories were associated with that one for them to use again.

"That's great. I'll just go and get the forms for it," the sales associate said happily, hurrying off to the back room.

"They're fast," Ashley said, impressed.

"It's part of the business," explained Veronica.

Becky smoothed down the skirt and looked at herself in the mirror once more. She really was getting married now, there was no doubt about it. For the first time since Dave had held out the ring she felt like a bride. It was all happening, and it was happening right now. She grinned at her reflection.

Veronica's cellphone went off. Frowning she flipped it over.

"Yes Balthazar?" she asked.

Her frown deepened.

"No, I told you that she liked apple," explained Veronica, "Apricot, well, you shouldn't feed her that because-you already did?"

Although Ashley was looking away Becky could see that she had a smirk on her face.

"That makes her throw up-yes on you. It's called projectile vomiting and it's perfectly normal-" Veronica started.

She paused as though suddenly becoming aware of her audience. Muttering apologies she got up and headed towards the hall that connected the dressing rooms. When the door closed behind her Ashley gave out a muted laugh. Even Becky had to laugh at the image of Dave's stoic master getting vomited on by his baby daughter.

"I think that just made my day, no joke," laughed Ashley, wiping a few tears away from her eyes.

"I think Lorna might be growing up with an attitude problem," Becky said.

"And I wonder where she gets **that **from."

"That's a good point," Becky said, absently smoothing her skirt to get a feel for the skirt, "Heaven forbid if she turns out exactly like her father."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that. Children aren't their parent's vessels," shrugged Ashley, "It's not like she's going to grow up looking like Veronica and acting exactly like Balthazar or something like that."

She smiled, trying to hide the sting of the words. Ashley didn't know, she couldn't have. Practically no one knew how little she had turned out to be her mother's 'vessel'.

"We'll see in a couple of years either way," Becky said.

"Guess so," grinned Ashley, "Oh, and there was something I needed to ask you about."

"What's that?"

"Well, the invitation," Ashley said, "Only other wedding I went to was Balthazar and Veronica's, and that was kinda bring-all-the-New-York-Merlinians-into-one-place deal. I'm not really good with all these rules. So when it says Ashley Moore plus one that means I can bring a friend right?"

Becky winced. She had a feeling who that plus one was going to end up being. The last time she had seen that ex-Morganian he had been lounging in his hospital bed and smirking at Dave. That hadn't gone over well, although Dave hadn't said anything. She highly doubted that Balthazar would want him near them either.

"Yes," she said cautiously.

Ashley seemed to pick up on the tone.

"If you rather I wouldn't," she said, "then I won't. It's your wedding."

For a minute she was tempted to just ask her not to bring him. However, Becky didn't want to be the kind of bride who went nutso on guests who, when told on the invitation they could bring someone, tried to change their minds. She had watched too many of those bridezillas on T.V. to still think that that was the way to go.

"No, you can bring whoever you want," Becky said, "I'm just not sure…Balthazar and Dave…how to…"

"He'll behave," Ashley said firmly.

She cast a glance at the girl. Ashley was around three years younger than her, and probably around the same for Drake. From what she'd heard the girl had little experience in these matters, evinced whenever Ashley asked her for advice. So there was part of her that said that Ashley had no clue what she was getting into with him.

At the same time Ashley had been going out with him for quite some time. They'd even been living together, even though it sounded more like rooming together, for even longer. In many ways they were quite alike, although Becky had barely known Drake. All she could remember was that smirk, something that Ashley shared with him.

There was no reason for her not to trust her younger friend with what she wanted to do. Ashley was capable in battle and could be relied on to keep a cool head. So why shouldn't she be expected to have a cool head when it came to this? Becky wasn't sure if relationships were any easier than battles, but at least there was a smaller chance of being maimed.

Ashley also seemed convinced that she could get him to do what she wanted. That might be false confidence though and Becky couldn't help the doubt that crept up on her face.

"I'll smack him a good one if he doesn't," Ashley said, "And he won't even talk to them unless it's in the receiving line. Or I could lock him in some convenient closet. And, like I said, if you don't want me to-"

"I said you could," interrupted Becky, "And don't worry. I know some convenient closets you can use."

Ashley smiles, looking almost grateful. A minute later Veronica returned, followed closely by the sales associate. The gown is taken off and put in storage, it's spoken for now. Becky signs some forms and they head out into what, by now, Becky believes should be rain. She's pleasantly surprised.

"Sky's cleared up," Veronica remarked.

Tilting her head Becky watched as a puff cloud floats by in the pure blue of the sky. It's just like her dress. She closes her eyes and remembers how she looked in it. It'll be waiting for her in three weeks time when she marries Dave. Opening her eyes she focused her sight on the pavement ahead of her. Between then and now there were things to do.

"Alright, who's up for caterer shopping?"


	62. Prompt 20: Planes

20. Planes

Joanne Stutler had always felt remarkably nervous around planes. It didn't have anything to do with their design, nor did it have anything to do with the number of accidents involved in them. The answer was actually far stranger than she would care to admit to anyone, which made her quite like her son in that fashion.

She had flown quite a bit in her younger days, between her job and college and numerous other things. So back then she had been quite comfortable with it. However, one bad experience can ruin you for a lifetime. In this case that bad experience was the lock sticking in the plane's bathroom and not being able to get out for half an hour.

In her seat Joanne shuddered. Oh yes, that had been a bad one. Why the hell had the lock stuck in the first place? Then there was the embarrassing aftermath where the stewardesses and the co-pilot had had to force the lock. She tried to purge herself of the unholy memory of being let out into a crowd of uniformed faces. Other passengers had been sniggering in their seats, some trying to hide how hard they were laughing and some not trying at all.

Since then she had flown only four times, and that incident had been twenty-four years ago. Joanne had visited her brother in Florida, two-way ticket, and a similar situation had gotten her the other two times when she went to visit Dave in New York. This would be her fifth time, and she'd make at least one more trip.

She reflected that it was probably impossible not to fly in this day and age. However, she had been trying to avoid doing it as much as possible. Not to mention it was expensive for someone on her budget. Still, the experience had never repeated itself and Joanne figured that she should be grateful for that in the very least.

Bored she looked out the window. The in-flight movie was boring, as she knew it was going to be. Mostly they only showed chick-flicks these days, something that made her wince every time she saw them. Her own life was probably the anti-chick flick; not romantic enough to fit the bill and not sad enough.

To bide the time she started to think about her destination and what awaited her there. It was hard to believe that her son was getting married. He was only twenty-two, which was young. He sounded like he knew what he wanted though, and she'd never seen two people as in love as they were except in movies. All that she had gotten from one afternoon's lunch in a vegetarian restaurant. She knew that if she had spent more time she probably would've gotten overloaded.

Becky Barnes. That was a name for the books. Joanne could remember, once upon a time, when they were involved in a school play. It was Cinderella, Dave's obligatory fairytale play as a member of the fourth grade. This had been before the glucose-imbalance incident. It was, in short, before their lives became abnormal.

Dave had some two-bit role as a villager. She remembered it because she'd had to sew the smock as well. Her seamstress skills were woefully inadequate, but at least it looked like village-y rags by the time she was done. It was a relief to her that Dave was just happy to be in a costume period.

Now, it was around this time that a new girl had come into the class. It had been at the beginning of the year, only a week or so after everyone else. Joanne hadn't taken much note of it; Dave had mentioned in passing that he'd had a new desk mate. Like she said, she wasn't much of a seamstress and she'd been very occupied with getting it all together. It had been two months before the play but she'd known that she'd have to get a move on it if it was to be finished in time. So it hadn't really registered until the dress rehearsal.

Joanne had always taken it upon herself to be involved in every school function. She supposed it was her own bizarre way for trying to make up for the fact that Dave didn't have a father. For that night she had been the one to help with the refreshments. She couldn't sew, she might not be that good of a mother, she might not have a good-paying job, but she could make damn good cookies.

It was there that she'd heard the other mothers talking. Apparently the girl who was playing Cinderella had broken her leg on the monkey bars, she wasn't sure how, and couldn't be in it. So they were sending up the new girl to be her understudy. Since she had arrived later she had been ready to fill in for just about anyone, or be a last minute villager.

Of course, there were other remarks as well. Rebecca Barnes, she likes to be called Becky apparently, came from a rich family. There were rumors of a custody battle and parent deaths. It was about that time that Joanne had moved away. She'd had better things to do with her time than gossip about fourth-graders.

She had sat in the audience, watching them rehearse. Dave waved to her onstage, which got him a sharp reprimand. His ears had turned red and Joanne had felt like going up onto the stage and telling him it was fine. Then again, that might get him laughed at more by his fellow classmates. She didn't want it to look like he was a mama's boy.

Becky came on, looking awkward in her 'rags'. She was a vivacious little girl, looking bright and full of life. Joanne could hardly believe that she had gone through anything that the other mothers were talking about. It was probably just gossip from people with nothing more productive to do with themselves. After that she had noticed nothing else about the girl and had used her 'polite audience face' for a while.

However, when Becky passed near her son she saw the automatic change in his demeanor. He seemed more awkward than usual and looked at his shoes a good deal more. Joanne had lived long enough to recognize the signs. That didn't mean that she was any less shocked at her son's behavior.

Had it really been that long? Hadn't he been telling her just the other day that girls had cooties and he'd get sick if he was near them? Could she be mistaken? No, whatever was happening she definitely wasn't mistaken. These thoughts had whirled around in her head but she'd never spoken them to Dave. He had enough to worry about in that grade without her trying to give him unsolicited advice on crushes.

Many of the same feelings were there as she thought about the same two people over twelve years later. Joanne had raised him by herself so somehow that made her feel more responsible for him. Had twenty-two years really passed? He hadn't been her little boy for a long time now, she knew that. Dave had grown up a long time ago, but it didn't feel any less strange to think of him being married.

Did Becky's mother feel the same? From what Dave had told her Joanne had constructed the image of a screeching harpy ready to rip someone's heart out. She'd also heard that she wasn't attending, something that Joanne personally found inexcusable. She knew better than to say that to anyone, but it was how she felt as a mother.

However, if this woman was human and had feelings, what must that feel like? You essentially didn't have anything to do with her for her entire life, and now she's going to be married. That's the final stamp of 'not a child anymore' if anyone had held any pretensions up until that point. This woman didn't even have the memories of her growing up to hold onto. Joanne couldn't imagine that.

Her mind shifted back to the couple in question. It did no good to speculate on such things. It wasn't her place. She hadn't been to a wedding and wondered a bit about it. From what Dave had told her over the phone they seemed to have it pretty much in hand. Her son's newfound organizational skills were to be envied.

Joanne wondered how they'd held up through it all. It sounded like the guest list would be relatively small. Becky didn't sound like she had much family to speak of, and neither did Dave really. Of course, he'd already called Joanne and told her that Becky did have relations who would be attending. There was an uncle, an aunt, and a cousin twice removed from what she understood.

She squinched her eyes tight and tried to remember the names. The uncle and the aunt were the Blakes. Something of the family pariah from…her mother's side? Yes, that's what Dave had said. He'd been a little vague but she was sure it was from the mother's side. Otherwise they would be the Barnes. They had a daughter who was just starting to walk…something like that. She was sure she'd find out soon.

The cousin was named Lawrence. No, that was a boy's name. Lawrence was the last name. Bianca. Yes, that was her first name. Joanne hoped that there wouldn't be a test when she got there. She'd be awful at it, truly awful. The major reason why she'd never gone into customer service was because she couldn't remember anyone's name to save her life.

There would be friends there too. She could remember Bennet easily enough. However, that wasn't what she was concerned about. It was the other 'adults' that she was worried about. If she was a mother she had an excuse not to remember the names of some of the couple's friends. If they were other people around her age though she lost that excuse.

"Hello passengers, this is your pilot speaking," a voice intoned over the speaker, "We've turned on the fasten seat-belt sign and would appreciate it if you return to your seat soon. We'll be landing shortly."

Joanne breathed a sigh of relief. No matter. At least she was almost off the stupid plane.


	63. Prompt 84: Glue

84. Glue

"I did warn you that I wasn't very good at this."

Becky shook her head in disagreement. Dave looked at them from his location in the kitchen of their new apartment. They'd had to get some place to live together as husband and wife after the honeymoon after all. The centerpiece project had been something that she'd seen in a magazine. They were glass vases things that, with flowers, ribbon, a little glue, and some glass beads ended up looking rather classy. Well, that had been what she'd said anyway.

She'd wanted one for each table and three for the main one. That meant that there were around seventeen to make. Ashley had put her time in with making four, Jill had done two, and Veronica had hashed out an unprecedented seven before she'd had to leave. Each one of them had other lives to get to.

He frowned when he remembered that. For some reason Veronica had suddenly gotten very busy around the time his mother had come in. She had gotten up happily enough to greet her, then turned white at the sight of her. The word 'Mary' had escaped her and Joanne had had to point out that that wasn't her name. She had nodded and said that she must have mistaken her for someone else. A few minutes later she had run out saying she had to pick up Lorna from Day-Care. Lorna didn't go to Day-Care.

That had been weird to say the least. For a minute he had wondered if perhaps his mother had some magical connection with something. It wasn't unlikely, given his own status. However, he couldn't imagine his mother being involved in something magical. He couldn't say why, he just couldn't. So Dave figured that Veronica was telling the truth; she had mistaken her for someone else and it had disquieted her. By this point in his life Dave knew better than to go around prying.

Veronica might've done more but that would've required magic. Apparently the wedding was something that Becky felt could do without that. He felt similarly. He didn't need it invading every aspect of his life. Besides, Becky said that she thought it would give Dave's mother a chance to contribute. The woman had awkward moments like he did and Becky wanted to include her. She knew hardly anything about the woman who had given birth to her soon-to-be-husband. This was how she chose to fit in female bonding time.

However, Dave had tried to warn her that his mother was all thumbs as she was fond of saying. Becky had said that he was exaggerating. He hadn't been.

"You're fine," Becky assured her future mother-in-law, "Just…maybe…you might want to try to use less glue."

Joanne rolled her eyes, her hands sticky with the substance. From what Dave could see her hands were coated in it up to her wrists.

"Yeah, I figured," she laughed, a small remnant of embarrassment still on her face, "Let me go…wash my hands?"

She sounded doubtful.

"I don't think soap and water will work very well with that," Becky said, trying not to concentrate on the enormous amount of glue on Joanne's hands.

"Didn't think so. I'm not very crafty though. Figures I wouldn't know," she said, examining her hands, "So, do you know what gets this stuff off?"

Becky shrugged and Dave felt it would be a good time for him to come in.

"Try rubbing your hands together," Dave said, "The friction dries it and generally gets it off easily. School trick."

He saw Becky look at Joanne's hands. It was actually worse than what he'd seen in the kitchen. They were rather beyond his friction method.

"I'll go do that with soap and water," said Joanne, getting up, "I should be back…fairly soon. Sorry about this Becky."

"Don't worry, at least you didn't get it in your hair."

Shuddering Joanne headed down the hallway. Dave pulled a chair out and sat down in it. He gave Becky a lopsided grin.

"Exaggerating eh?"

"Don't be like that," said Becky annoyed, "It wasn't that bad. And this was her first one; even I got messy on the first one."

"Are you talking about that bit of glue you got on your forehead?"

"It wasn't on my forehead," insisted Becky, "And before you say anything it's the same principle as getting it all over your hands."

"Okay, okay," he said, grinning and holding his hands up in a defensive gesture, "Just let me tell you, for future reference so you'll know if anything goes horribly wrong, that I inherited my clumsiness from her."

"…so you're saying she's got it worse?"

"A little."

"How is that even possible?"

"Ouch," Dave said.

"Hey, I know what I'm getting from you," she said, "The part where you make music with Tesla coils balances it out though."

"Ah," he said, unwilling to tell her about the time he had let the mops get out of hand and the coils shot sparks and electrified the water.

Resting her chin on her propped up arm Becky said;

"So, does your mother know?"

"Know what?" he asked.

"You know," said Becky, sounding a little impatient, "All of the magical stuff."

He laughed.

"No," he said.

"Why's it so funny?"

"Oh, I was just thinking about Veronica's weird reaction a little earlier," Dave said, "And then I started wondering too, but no. Besides, my mother hates rings and jewelry of all kinds. I've never actually seen her wear anything that could be used as a conductor."

"I didn't mean that," Becky said before lowering her voice in an admission, "I found myself looking too. That's the first thing I do with everyone I meet nowadays."

"Me too," sighed Dave, "So what was it that you **did **mean?"

"I was wondering if you'd told her."

Sudden and sharp horror came into his mind.

"No," he said, "No, no, no, no, no."

"Why's it such a bad-?"

"She'd freak," Dave said, "Big time."

"Well, it might be good for her to know that her son didn't have hallucinations caused by a glucose imbalance on his tenth birthday," said Becky sarcastically.

"Yeah, maybe," Dave agreed, "But it's better than her freaking. I love my mom but this…I'm thinking this would be too much for her."

"Wasn't too much for me."  
"I didn't really have a choice there," explained Dave, "You'd basically seen everything by that point already-"

"Not really," Becky said, "But am I to understand that if I wasn't being held captive by a thousand-year old sorcerer with revenge issues then you wouldn't have told me?"

"I would've told you eventually," he frowned, not comfortable with the topic, "I mean, I'm marrying you and it'd be pretty hard to hide this kind of thing."

"So you'd just be telling me now if you had your way?" she asked in disbelief.

"You make it sound like I'm awful or something," mumbled Dave, "You'd think I was crazy, you'd freak-"

"You're assuming I'd freak," Becky corrected him, "If you recall I took it pretty much in stride."

"There was a crisis situation."

"I'd have dealt with it," said Becky, "But there's no reason your mother shouldn't know. You've been doing this for two years. If something happens to you magically I don't want to be the one who has to explain what happened."

He sighed, feeling defeated.

"Look, I get it," he said, "I just…it doesn't feel like it'd be a good idea. Okay? I don't want to tell her. Maybe in a few years-"

"Or minutes," Becky finished for him.

Dave rolled his eyes, already thinking of another argument. Then he stopped because Becky looked almost flustered behind her grin. It was then that he remembered she was a Seer.

"What aren't you telling me?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said.

"Becky-" he started, feeling panicked.

"Dave!" yelled his mother.

He turned just in time to see her marching down the hallway, pointing frantically towards his room.

"I took a wrong turning and…and…" she spluttered, "Dave, there's this huge book on your desk **and the pictures are moving**!"

Dave buried his head in his hands.

"Yup," he muttered, "I'm dead."


	64. Prompt 98: Lies

98. Lies

Joanne felt like her head was going to split in two. Everything was hazy, or at least felt hazy. When had she fallen asleep? Was she late? Her alarm clock should've gone off. She knew she was at the hotel, but she carried that thing with her everywhere she went. It had never let her down before.

Her eyes opened ad she took in the scene. She was lying on a couch with Dave sitting on the armrest opposite of her. He was gazing pensively off into space. She wondered why her son looked so upset and put it down to nerves. Dave was getting married in a week, people were bound to be nervous.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Becky talking rapidly with…her aunt and uncle? Oh yes, and baby cousin if you could count her. She wondered what they were talking about. Her aunt had left earlier, what was her name, aha, Veronica. Joanne would get the hang of this yet, just wait and see.

Now that she had all of that sorted out se was wondering why she was on the couch. What had she been doing? Oh yes, she'd been helping them sort out the centerpieces for the tables and had made a mess of it. Well, that actually raised more questions than it answered. If she had been trying to do something useful than why was she taking a nap?

Wait, that hadn't been everything. Alright, now she was getting somewhere. Her hands were messy so she went to the bathroom. After much scrubbing and friction method she had managed to get all of the glue off. Having that settled she accidentally went into Dave's room and saw a book and…and…**and**…

"Dave," she muttered groggily, "I want-"

"You're awake," he said, startled.

Everyone in the room turned and stared at her. She squirmed under the scrutinization, but continued.

"I want to know two things," she said, straightening up, "One; did I faint?"

Dave nodded, looking at her with big worried eyes.

"Figures," she snorted, "Next thing; those pictures weren't actually moving, right?"

He shifted uncomfortably. Joanne's eyes narrowed. He might be a man grown and getting married in two weeks, but he was still her son.

"Oh you have such a lot of explaining to do," she hissed.

"It's not what you think-" he tried.

"Really?" she asked, sitting up and crossing her arms, "Well, what is it that I'm thinking?"

Confusion spread over his face.

"What?"

"If it's not what I'm thinking then what am I thinking?" she snapped.

"I'd calm down a little," Becky's uncle, Balthazar she thought, said while waving his hand, "Too many words tend to confuse him."

"I'm his mother. I know perfectly well about that…stuff. And you stay out of this," she snapped, "This is family stuff and no offense but you're not family **yet**."

She knew her tone was harsh but a lot had happened. Something flickered in Balthazar's eyes before he took a step back.

"How did you even get here?" demanded Joanne.

"I called for them," Dave said with a wince, "I wasn't sure how to…um…explain this…"

"And they can help how?"

He gestured helplessly to Balthazar. Balthazar just shrugged.

"She said I wasn't allowed to speak."

"Don't do this to me!" pleaded Dave.

"Your mother, your Incantus that you left in plain sight, you explain," Balthazar said.

"Isn't there something I can do, like, to her memory or-?"

"For the last time, is that something you want to do to your own mother?" asked Balthazar.

"Well…no…but-"

"I'm still in the room!" Joanne said loudly, "In case anyone's interested."

"Dave," said Becky, "We can leave the room if it makes this any easier."

Her son shook his head, his face the very image of misery. Keeping his eyes lowered he shifted his body so he was facing his mother.

"About two years ago…" he started, "No, bad idea. Okay, so twelve years ago. Arcana Cabana. You know?"

"Of course."

"I…I wasn't hallucinating."

A lump formed in Joanne's throat. She felt like she was about to cry.

"Dave, we've been over this a million times," she pleaded, "The doctors-"

"-lied," Dave said firmly, "I can prove it."

He extended his hand towards the kitchen chairs. They lifted themselves a good foot in the air and started doing small circles. Then, still rotating, they started to rotate around each other. Joanne stared at them, feeling like she was going to faint again. Swallowing hard she turned back to her son.

"I didn't know how to tell you," Dave said, looking abashed, "But I thought I had hallucinated it too. Then two years later Balthazar escaped imprisonment, long story there involving an urn, and found me. I started training after that."

She looked over at Balthazar. He coughed and nodded. Joanne shook her head.

"Okay, okay," she said, "Not dreaming. My dreams usually have a lot more purple in them. But I don't quite understand…any of that really."

Dave breathed in and started to explain in greater depth, everything from when he started training to the present. She heard it all in silence; Morgana, Mordred, Merlin. Every now and then Balthazar would add a few details, but other than that he had the tact to stay out of it. When Dave was finished Joanne looked around at all of them.

"So for two years you've been lying to me," she said.

"I wasn't lying," Dave protested.

"But you weren't telling me either," Joanne said glumly.

She turned to Becky.

"I suppose you knew."

Becky looked embarrassed.

"Like Dave said, I was kidnapped. They didn't have much choice except to tell me," she said, "And it's a good thing they did or I wouldn't have known what to do when I started having visions."

"Um…what?"

"I can see the future a little," Becky said, looking awkward, "But, I kind of know what you're feeling. I only found out that my grandmother was a seer about a year or so ago."

"Okay, everyone here is magic but me," Joanne said, rubbing her temples, "That's a lot to take in. But Dave, any reason for, like I said, lying to me like that?"

"I didn't want it to be like this," he said.

"Like what?"

"You freaking out."

"And here I thought I was being calm. Aren't I being calm?"

"…yeah."

"Alright then," she sighed, "Anything else I should know?"

"Well," Balthazar said, "You were wrong about you being the only non-magical one here."

She looked doubtfully at Lorna.

"That's not what I meant," said Balthazar, "I was simply stating that Dave is a descendent of Merlin. He got that from somewhere."

"His father," Joanne said without thinking.

Dave looked at her and blinked. She could've cursed herself for saying that. Joanne had only ever mentioned his father to him about three times. All he knew about him was that he'd left and Dave had been satisfied with that. He'd always told her that he didn't have time for someone who didn't want him.

Still, it figured. Dave would get all of his clumsy and inept habits from her and all of his magic from his father. As much as it pained her she had to admit that it was probably true.

"Was he a sorcerer?" asked Balthazar.

"Not that I know of."

"Then he probably got it from you," Balthazar said.

Joanne shook her head.

"I knew some Stutlers," said Veronica, "A long time ago. I could sense some magic in them, an untapped potential. You look a lot like one of them; her name was Mary."

"Guess that explains earlier," Dave said.

"I'm probably not related-" started Joanne.

"You are," Balthazar said, "The ring moved in Mary's brother's hand. It's too much of a coincidence otherwise."

Sighing Joanne leaned back into the couch. At least it wasn't from his father. It made her feel a little better about the situation.

"Alright, alright," she said, "Dave, I understand why you didn't want to tell me. It's no big deal."

Looking relieved Dave nodded.

"But do something like this again and you are sooo dead," Joanne added.


	65. Prompt 30: Peace

30. Peace

It wasn't supposed to be like this, Dave knew that as much as anyone. If he had been popular enough in High School to be elected for a superlative, he hadn't, then he would've been "The least likely to become a Sorcerer, save the world, and marry the girl of just about anyone's dreams." If anything he would've been "Most likely to die during a klutz attack."

Yet, here he was. Merlin's ring was on his finger, two world-saving events under his belt, and about to marry Becky. He looked out from behind the crack in the door at the church. All of the guests were seated. Most of them were friends, others family. Since he wasn't technically part of the Merlinian system he didn't have to invite anyone for political purposes like they had for Lacy's funeral. He was grateful for that.

He leaned up against the door. There had been so much, what with planning the wedding, getting time off of work, and having to explain magic to his mother that there hadn't been much peace. A million different details had needed to be sorted out that he didn't really have too much time to think about what was going to happen.

It wasn't like he was having second thoughts. That was the **last** thing he was thinking about. Dave just hadn't really visualized the moment that he would say his vows to her and then lead her out as her husband. He had never really thought about it. Then there was the wedding night to consider…

Looking over the assembled crowd he suddenly felt a lurch in his stomach. No, he wasn't getting nauseous now. Your wedding day was not the time for stage fright to rear its ugly head. It would be just like him to get nervous and throw up everywhere during his wedding. A really bad mental image swam in his mind, something that would make the Arcana Cabana look like a missed due date on the scale of embarrassing happenings. He shuddered involuntarily.

"Something wrong Dave?" asked Balthazar.

Dave shook his head. He hadn't even heard Balthazar come up from behind him, something that he was generally able to do quite easily. It was the clunky noise the shoes made.

"Nothing, just a little nervous," he said.

Balthazar quirked an eyebrow.

"Getting cold feet?"

"No way in hell," Dave answered automatically.

"Alright," Balthazar laughed, "Well, at least I won't be walking Becky down to an empty altar."

Again Dave shook his head. He still couldn't believe that Becky had asked Balthazar to give her away. Her father had died when she was very young, true enough, but still. It had never really occurred to him that she would acknowledge what Balthazar was to Dave and just accept it like it was commonplace.

"So who'd you give Lorna to?" asked Dave, deciding to change the subject, "I don't see her-"

"Oh, she's towards the back with Jack," Balthazar said, "I figured he could take her out easy if she started crying."

"Why Jack?"

"Apparently he's got a daughter of his own," said Balthazar, "so I figured he'd understand what I'd do to him if anything happened to her."

"Nice way to put it."

"You'll understand when you have one of your own."

"Whatever," Dave snorted.

A look passed over Balthazar's face, one that Dave was quite used to. It was generally used when Dave was missing something that Balthazar considered painfully obvious.

"What?" asked Dave.

"I'm just acknowledging that you're probably going to find out soon enough," Balthazar said patiently.

"I'm only twenty-two," protested Dave.

"And yet here we are, **at your wedding**," Balthazar said, "Because if this is something else you'd better tell me now."

"Fine, fine," muttered Dave, "But I don't think that either of us are quite ready for kids just yet."

"Have you talked about it?" asked Balthazar.

"I'm getting married in about seven minutes and you're asking me if I've thought about kids yet?" exclaimed Dave in disbelief.

"Just trying to talk about something other than the fact that you look like you've eaten something that is souring in your stomach," Balthazar said conversationally.

"The kid talk isn't calming me down," said Dave, "And I can't go out and meet Becky looking like that. So no talking."

"Fine," Balthazar said, throwing his hands up in a surrendering gesture, "I just need to go back and meet Becky. You're entering in a few minutes yourself. Try and get that look off your face. They'll think she forced you into this or something."

"Surprised they don't think the other way around," Dave muttered.

Balthazar sighed.

"If you start thinking like that again you'll never get anywhere," Balthazar said, "It took you two years to ask her to marry you, even after the Mordred Debacle. She agreed to marry you. Your self-confidence doesn't need any more dips in it."

"Wonderful advice," Dave said drily.

"Don't forget it," Balthazar said, heading to the back of the church.

Dave peeked out through the door crack and then down at his watch. Only four more minutes to go before he went out there. Behind him the rest of the groom's party was assembling. He took a deep breath in and exhaled it, picturing Becky getting ready for the wedding with her friends.

He hadn't actually seen the dress. Dave wasn't the most traditional of people, but he did believe that the groom shouldn't see the bride before she came out during the ceremony. It was just a preconceived idea that he'd had. He wasn't worried about getting blown away by how beautiful she'd look; that happened every day for him.

The minutes were ticking away. Someone signaled for him to go and the doors opened. He walked out there, resisting the urge to put his hands in his pockets. It felt like everyone could see just how sweaty his palms were getting. He probably still looked sick too, not how a groom should look on his wedding day.

Finally reaching the front of the church he paused. His eyes scanned the room, the surroundings familiar but somehow strange at the same time. Dave remembered being in there. In his mind he could conjure up images of hanging flowers and draping silk cloth. He had helped organize the seating plan so he knew just where everyone was. It just didn't feel like he had ever been in that room in his life before was all.

Then, out of nowhere, a sense of peace enveloped him. It didn't really have any sort of prelude, just came. He exhaled slowly and with it all of his nervousness seemed to leave him. Dave had made it there alright, hadn't he? His stomach didn't feel like it was about to turn over, and he hadn't tripped on the way up. Things would be fine.

The doors at the far end of the church opened and music started playing. Becky came in, led by Balthazar. Her gown was corseted at the top, leading down into a ball gown skirt. Everything was made of white silk and peppered with seed pearls. A white satin ribbon encircled her neck. Some of her pale blond hair curled by her face, the rest of it put up, the comb of her veil tucked neatly into the hairstyle.

So much for not getting blown away. It was all he could do to stand there. Dave gave her an awed smile which she shyly returned. After what seemed like a long time Balthazar led her onto the platform. She stepped onto it, her shoe visible for only a second. She gave another small smile before the minister started to speak.

He didn't really register the rest of the ceremony. Although it went by in something of a blur Dave knew that he said his words right. There wasn't any laughter at any point, so that was definitely a good sign. There was only one thing that he remembered, and that was when the minister said;

"Husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

The sense of peace came back as he leaned in. Just before he kissed her he murmured;

"Love you."

She tilted her head and grinned in agreement before his lips came in contact with hers. After that David and Rebecca Stutler exited the church.


	66. Prompt 28: Heaven

28. Heaven

Dave breathed out, trying hard not to shift his weight on the bed. He had just woken up with the greatest reluctance and realized that it would be hard to get things exactly right. There were several reasons for this. The first was that it was Monday, and he never really liked Mondays. They had flown to Florida for three days for the honeymoon and had arrived back at New York the previous day, so the jet lag was hurting him too. Most of all though he stayed still so that he didn't wake Becky by his restless tossing and turning.

It wouldn't have mattered much if he had done a complete 360 barrel-roll though. From experience he knew that Becky was a heavy sleeper. He should know. After all, she had slept next to him nearly every night for a month after her grandmother died. He had often hoped to hold her in his arms for reasons other than comforting her in the night against her tears. Now he had gotten his wish.

Lying next to him his wife, he loved using that word, looked like an angel. She had always had that angelic look to her; pale skin, pale gold hair, and a gentle face. Against the white pillow and cream comforter the effect was breath-taking. If holding her in his arms like this wasn't heaven then he didn't know what was. Everything about her, from the way her hair fell to how she breathed, seemed other-worldly.

Even as a child she had possessed this quality, leading him to stammer whenever she came near. It had been a good thing that he hadn't had any lines other than song ones during the Cinderella play they were in during the fourth grade. He wouldn't have been able to think straight since she stood near him in most of the scenes.

Dave had the feeling that he was going to be quite hopeless around her for the rest of his life. Somehow he found himself alright with that like he had never before. Becky hadn't married him in expectation for him to be this suave football jock. As she had once told him; she knew what she was getting. She'd married him for him.

Becky gave a small sigh. It was almost time for him to get up, but not just yet. Dave had no real desire to face the day, but the honeymoon was basically over. They had just barely saved up a week off of their prospective jobs. Monday morning had dawned and it was time to get back to the responsibilities of life.

His job on a scientific project to improve the subway system proved to last for at least three more years. So much of it was using efficiency and to reduce friction on the rails. His professor had recommended him for the job, and he'd been taken once he graduated. After that he'd figure out what to do for good. However, if this turned out right then it was definitely going to lead to more things in the future. For the present though it was more than enough for him to get a steady salary with modest benefits.

Very gently he reached out and brushed some of her hair away from her face. Her skin felt warm and soft under his touch. He hoped that things would look up for her. She hadn't gone through all of that drama with her mother to be a temp for all of her life. Dave knew she wouldn't be though. She was going to strive for more, and he'd be privileged to be with her for the rest of the ride.

That ride wasn't exactly projected to be an easy one. They had more problems than just the average ones that young couples went through, and not just because of the current recession. Magic had started to affect both of their lives. Dave had lost the lab, like he knew that he would. He hoped that it would be put to good use, but he did feel a pang of regret as he had to erase the Merlin's Circle from the floor.

Nowadays he did his training in Merlin's Keep. Well, he said training, more like reconstruction. The place had been crumbling when Balthazar had finally made his way through the protective spells to it. Along with Veronica they were repairing it and restoring the place to its former glory. It was a huge task.

Sometimes he would see Balthazar and Veronica staring off into space when they entered a room or went up a tower. Sometimes it would be over something as simple as repairing the broken hinges of a door or opening what used to be the stables. During that time he knew better than to disturb them. They were lost within themselves, in a place that he couldn't go.

Balthazar still taught him a few things about control, something he continued to have difficulty with. Dave didn't really stop being his apprentice just because he had achieved the rank of a master. As Balthazar had put it when explaining his continued apprenticeship to Merlin; "You never stop learning."

Shortly after they had started building the keep Balthazar had made a confession that had nearly made Dave faint. He had told him that the Keep was being redesigned with the purpose in mind of training his daughter. Dave had laughed initially, wondering if Balthazar intended to use the same methods on Lorna that he had on Dave. He stopped laughing when Balthazar informed him that he and Veronica had talked it over and, after due consideration, wanted Lorna to be his apprentice when she was old enough.

Dave had stammered out his objections. Almost impatiently Balthazar had brushed these objections away with a wave of his hand. With a slight grimace he told Dave that parents didn't usually train their own children for fear of going to easy or too hard on them. They instead left it to those they trusted the most.

In that moment Dave was both flattered and devastated. The flattery came from the fact that Balthazar and Veronica were willing to trust him with their daughter. She had been the long sought-after child from both of them and he knew how much she meant. The devastation had been since, after hearing that, he knew that there was no way that he could say no now. So Dave had accepted Lorna Blake as his future apprentice.

He wasn't the only busy one. Now that Becky had all but mastered her powers Bianca had tentatively suggested that she start doing commissions like her grandmother had. Bianca was trying to be a good relative, but she was still awkward. She seemed to find it easier to talk about duty than day to day things. They were still in the baby steps of their acquaintance as relatives. Neither had grown up really knowing the other, and that made things tough.

However, Becky's powers had come with other drawbacks. Despite what he had told Balthazar about not thinking about it, they had had to. About a week after he'd asked her to marry him she had very quietly told him that she needed a word with him in private. At first he'd worried she was having second thoughts, that was just how he was naturally, but he had agreed to her request.

She had sat him down and explained to him that Seers generally had trouble conceiving. Her own ancestor, Nimue, had been married for over a decade and never managed to conceive. Lacy had been much luckier; she had had a son. He had been an only child though. Not to mention that that son had turned out to be a Magonisi, never quite fitting in with his parent's dynamically magic crowd.

Not for the first time Dave wished that Becky's father was still alive. While it might have hurt her chances for meeting him, she had been living with her grandmother at the time; he felt that that would've happened no matter what happened. Even Balthazar had had to point out that their ancestries and the circumstances of their meeting smacked of destiny. So that sort of selfish worry had never really crossed his mind.

If her father had been alive maybe her mother would've stuck around more. Dave couldn't solidify any of it, but who knew? Besides, they would be able to ask him about his experience. If Becky and he did indeed have a child who shared their grandfather's fate they'd want to ask him about the best way to deal with it. Now that opportunity had been lost, along with a great many other things.

Still, he had shrugged off the problem. If the time came and she couldn't conceive then they could adopt if they wanted to. He knew that if it did come up that she couldn't have children then they would adopt. Dave had seen her around Lorna far too many times to think that she didn't want to have children.

With tears in her eyes she had hugged him. Somehow she had gotten the idea that he'd be mad about it or very upset in the least. He had laughed and reminded her about how they were only twenty-two. They had their whole lives ahead of them. There was no cause for them to be worrying about that just yet. As long as it was the two of them raising the children together than he would be more than happy to do it.

Out of the corner of his eye he glanced at the clock. He had another five minutes before he should get up. Dave would wake her up too, they had both figured out a good time for both of them. There wasn't much point to getting up and waking up your partner only to have to wake them up again in ten minutes. It was just his luck that he'd managed to wake up first without the aid of an alarm clock.

Again his hand touched her face. Becky shifted again and her eyes fluttered open.

"Time to get up?" she managed.

"Not for about two minutes," he confessed, "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up early."

"Two minutes isn't going to make much of a difference," she yawned, "So, it's Monday right?"

"Right."

"Back to the old routine," said Becky, pushing herself up, "Of course, I wasn't waking up with you next to me then."

"I wasn't waking up to you either," laughed Dave, "Things change though."

Smiling she reached out with her hand. Their hands interlaced, the rings clinking together slightly. With another smile she leaned in, the angelic look still on her face. They kissed then. There was no doubt about it. Whatever the trials that had happened, whatever trials were still waiting, this was heaven.


	67. Prompt 79: Wrath

_**A/N: **__And now, after all of that sweet and lovey stuff, for someone __**completely **__different._

79. Wrath

"I need to talk to you."

Ashley looked up from the book she was reading. She frowned as he sat down on the couch next to her.

"Okay," she said, closing it and putting it away, "What's up Drake?"

This wasn't going to go well. Drake could tell that much as he sat down. Already she was suspicious of his motives. As much as he hated to admit it the masquerade was over now. It couldn't go on any longer. There was only around a week left until he was scheduled to leave; he had put off telling her for long enough.

Almost instinctively Ashley moved a little closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. It was a common past time for both of them to watch T.V. and to have her that near. It was just one of the many things he'd miss. Sighing he searched for the scrounged up enough courage to tell her that he was leaving. It was hard to find.

"You know that my mission against the New York Morganians is over," he said finally.

"Yeah," Ashley said, rolling her eyes, "I'm not stupid you know. There was that whole bit with the Chrysler building and all."

He tried to force a smile. It didn't work.

"I know you're not luv. But Bianca," Drake said, "Bianca gave me new orders."

She cocked her head.

"What do you mean?" asked Ashley, "Aren't you supposed to start training with us or something now?"

"I thought that that was the plan too," he said, struggling for his words, "But apparently Bianca figured I'd be better off doing more undercover stuff."

Ashley fingered her caster, twisting it back and forth. It was a nervous habit of hers and it boded ill for him that she was doing it.

"But they'd recognize you here," Ashley said, "Something about magic traces right?"

"Right."

There was a long pause.

"Where are you going?" she asked blankly.

"I dinnit say-"

"I'm not stupid," said Ashley, her face still blank and distant, "Now, where are you going?"

"Massachusetts," he said, "Up near Salem."

"Lots of activity up there I hear," Ashley said.

"I heard that too."

"Big hotspot for Morganians. Some sort of memorial to Abigail Williams."

"Yeah, little bitch who put Salem on the map."

"Yeah."

More silence descended on them.

"When and for how long?" she asked.

"Next week," Drake said, swallowing, "Saturday, plane leaves at 5:30 in the mornin'. And they said it should last around two years if…"

"If what?"

"If I'm lucky."

"Two years," nodded Ashley.

Nothing more was said and Drake wondered just what these silences meant. Suddenly she jerked away from him. In the most matter of fact tone he'd ever heard Ashley said;

"I hate you."

"Ash," he pleaded, reaching for her.

"Don't you touch me!" she yelled, jumping up off the couch and backing away, "How long have you known?"

"I-"

"**How long**?"

"Nearly two months," he confessed.

Ashley staggered as though she'd been punched.

"Two months?" she whispered hoarsely, "Two months…you knew this was happening for that long?"

"Yes."

"I…you…," she said, "You should've…how could you not…we…oh God…you asshole…"

Her hands went to her face, covering it for a minute. There was no sound of tears, but he hadn't expected any. Ashley didn't cry loudly where people could see. That didn't mean that she wasn't crying though. He stood up and approached cautiously. She didn't move away from him, which he took as a good sign. Just as he nearly came within the proximity to touch her she looked up.

"So, you're going to break up with me, **like this**," she said, waving one of her hands around expansively, "In my own living room, in my own house, with absolutely no prior warning."

The question startled him.

"I didn't think about it like that…but Ash, It wouldn't be fair to have you wait that long for me," said Drake.

"Wouldn't be fair," repeated Ashley bitterly.

"No," Drake said.

She nodded. Her hands picked up a plate from the nearby table where she'd been stacking them earlier for sorting. She threw it at the wall behind him, shattering it. Drake felt shocked, but not frightened. Ashley was a good aim. If she had wanted to hit him with the plate than she would. So at least she wasn't trying to kill him yet.

"Don't talk to me about fair. Since when was any of this fair?" she demanded, "My parents left me and that wasn't fair. Your master left you and that wasn't fair either. It's not fair that you ended up a Morganian. It's not fair that…it's probably not even technically fair that Bianca dug you out of that damned Morgue. By fair rights you would've been taken out for helping Horvath."

Her words hurt, but he knew that she was just saying what was true. It didn't mean that she believed them.

"But here we are in all unfairness," said Ashley, "And it's still being fair."

She turned her head to look out the window. Ashley started laughing, laughter with an edge to it.

"Am I the only one who finds that ironic?"

Drake didn't say anything. He remembered long ago when Bianca had told him that Ashley didn't have a lot of people in her life. The ones that she did have she cared fiercely about. Even though Bianca hadn't told him this, he knew that there was only one unforgiveable thing a person could do for her; leave.

He remembered how hurt shed been when he'd left the first time. They hadn't even been in a relationship then. Yet, she had somehow forgiven him and given him a second chance. Drake didn't know why people kept doing that for him. Things were different now though. They had somehow gotten wildly out of hand.

"Ash," he said, inching a little closer, "Ya' know how I feel about you."

"Don't," she said, shaking her head, "Don't say it, not now-"

"I love you," said Drake, touching her shoulder.

She tried to jerk away but he wrapped an arm around her. One of her hands fisted and hit him in the chest. It hurt, probably even bruised, but he didn't let go. Ashley hit him again, crying and trying to get him away from her. Drake still held on though, despite the fact that it felt like she was about to break a rib.

Tilting his head he kissed her. For a second her struggling stopped, giving him an opportunity to cradle her head with his hand. Her arms threw themselves around his neck, bring him closer to her. She was still crying, but not as hard. He could tell that she was having trouble supporting herself, and he didn't blame her. There were a lot of emotions floating around. So they sank together onto the floor.

He pulled away and cupped her face with his hands.

"I'll come back," he said.

"You won't."

"**I will**," insisted Drake, "I'll come back for you darlin'. An' if you feel like waiting for me or not, it won't matter, 'cause I'll still…yeah."

Ashley shook her head.

"You're wrong. It does matter," she said quietly, "It does."

Drake felt loss well up but he said nothing.

"I'm willing to wait," she said, "Because, asshole that you are, I think I may love you too."

He laughed then and pulled her a little closer. This was worth waiting for, not matter what anyone said.


	68. Prompt 25: Pizza

_**A/N: **__After this chapter there's going to be a jump in time about two years. Don't worry, I'll put the year when it happens. _

25. Pizza

Balthazar sighed and leaned back. From his position across the room Dave looked exhausted as well. He had every right to be. If Balthazar was exhausted then he was probably doubly so. Dave might have more raw power than him, had always had it, but control and sustainability would always be problems for him.

Looking out he surveyed his old practice room in one turret of the Keep. Well, surveyed the upper level of it anyway. The lower level had been, by unanimous agreement, remained unopened. Merlin had died down there and Veronica imprisoned. That wasn't something that they wanted to delve too deeply into, now or ever.

The upper practice room was still perfectly reinforced. Some of the spells had needed to be patched up since they'd faded with age, but other than that they were fine. It was a testament to his master's power that they had held up so well over the centuries. It was a testament to Dave's power that he could find the threads of the spells and see where they were damaged as easily as he did. It boded well.

Repairing the spell work had actually turned out to be the easy part. The cleaning involved was the hard part. Barring using magic for mops and brooms, something even Merlin had once advised him against, they had had to do it themselves. Getting down on your hands and knees to scrub centuries of dirt out of the engravings that made up the Merlin's Circle was hell. Not to mention you had to do it with a toothbrush.

Dave couldn't get much time off of work, so most of his work was constricted to the evenings. Balthazar was his own boss, so he found most of his day crowded with working on the Keep. Lorna was generally placed somewhere comfortable. His daughter was walking and saying the odd word like 'plasma' from time to time, quite hard to keep down. Balthazar knew it was all due to the genes, but he hadn't figured out if they were his or his wife's.

At the moment his daughter watched from her secluded play area that they had built for her. Not for the first time he wondered if she'd remember any of this. The answer was probably no, just like she wouldn't remember the Little Red Riding Hood story. Still, he knew she'd grow up with stories on how they cleaned up her future training grounds.

That was the underlying reason for getting it ready. Dave would, if he did have children, have a right to train them at the Keep as well. Since these children were yet unborn though, the work was for Lorna. Balthazar liked the New York Merlinians well enough, but desperately wanted to stay out of any 'political parties'. It was bad enough that the Blakes and the Prime Merlinian were already living in the same city. He wasn't being used as an example of 'hogging resources.'

Dave still needed his own forms of training; you never did stop learning. Yet, as Balthazar had acknowledged to him, it was mostly for Lorna. He had also told Dave of his hope that he would one day be Lorna's master. Dave would be, despite his clumsiness, a good master. If he wasn't then the fault was with Balthazar in the end. If Balthazar hadn't been confident that Dave could handle it though, he wouldn't have given him the title of master.

This raised some other questions though. These were about Dave's unborn children, again if he had any. Balthazar half-hoped that he wouldn't ask him to train them. Even if Becky became pregnant that day Balthazar would be forty by the time they would need to be trained. The average apprenticeship, including the stage of journeyman, lasted eleven years. That would make him about fifty. He'd sort of hoped that things would settle down a little bit by then.

That wasn't something that he should be worrying about yet though. What he should be worried about was a lot simpler. Firstly he should be worried about the fact that he felt like he had run a mile after re-enchanting the Merlin's Circle. Dave had had to help him with that. While Balthazar had always managed to just whip up a Circle in the past, that had been on something that hadn't already been there. Re-invigorating something was harder; hence the reason why he'd needed Dave's help.

The second was that Veronica and Becky had not yet returned with the pizza. Since the Circle was the last thing that needed to be done on the Keep he figured that some sort of celebration was in order. They had gone through the portal some time ago and he wondered what was taking them so long. Now that they had just finished a difficult piece of spell work he was getting increasingly hungry.

Judging by the look on Dave's face as he staggered to a chair he was too. They were both too tired for much talk, so it was a good thing when their wives arrived a few minutes later. Balthazar nearly didn't register the door opening or the footsteps. When he tilted his head upwards he saw Veronica and Becky with the pizza boxes. Veronica set hers down and walked over to him.

"Good job," she said, kissing him on the forehead, "It's almost like it was when…back when…well."

She didn't finish, but he knew what she meant. Almost like it was when they were apprentices. Veronica was right, except for the fact that Merlin was dead, Horvath was trapped in a mirror, and several centuries had passed. Balthazar didn't express this thought though, just sat up straight in his chair. The admission had cost something for her after all.

"Thank you," he said.

From across the room Becky was waking up Dave by waving a slice of pizza under his nose. He seemed to wake up quickly enough, practically grabbing for it. Fatty foods and carbohydrates were the best for replenishing lost energy after magic. It was like whoever had made pizza had known this. Considering all the strange things that happened in the world, they probably had.

"You got the meat lover's," sighed Dave in reverence.

"Of course you did. I can't have my husband collapsing just 'cause we got cheese," Becky said, getting herself some and then taking a seat, "I'm assuming that everything went well? No problems?"

"Not too many problems anyway," said Balthazar, piling four slices on a paper plate and taking a large bite.

He could feel Becky staring at his large pizza sandwich. Dave had become used to Balthazar's eating habits by then, so it passed unnoticed for him.

"You've got it cleared up pretty good," Veronica said.

"You helped," Balthazar laughed, "Otherwise we would've been sweeping things under rugs at every turn."

"There aren't any rugs."

"We'd have gotten some," Balthazar said.

"We're still going to need some," Dave said, "Remember when Lorna scraped her knee the other day?"

Veronica gave him a scathing look. Balthazar winced and glared at Dave.

"It was just a little one and I healed it immediately," he said.

"We're going to get some rugs," Veronica said firmly, walking over to where Lorna was penned in.

He watched in admiration as his wife scooped their daughter up. In return Lorna gave a happy burble and reached upwards. She did love her mother, and for some reason him as well. That made him equally useful with putting her back to sleep, which meant that he got less of it now. He wasn't used to people screaming with joy whenever he came near, but it was somewhat gratifying.

Lorna was growing bigger now. Her hair was starting to grow in. Where before it had been dark fuzz on her head it was now short black curls. Lorna's limbs had grown chubby and strong, and she had started laughing more. His daughter was growing up healthy and strong, and most of all she was growing up happy.

How had he come this far? In a matter of years things had changed so dramatically. Balthazar had gone from something of a poverty-stricken vagrant, unwilling to spend money he'd been saving up for life after his curse. His life had been one long story of being let down by humanity, both by friends and strangers. After so long he had started to give up, feeling helpless in the tide of history.

Then he had found his apprentice by some strange coincidence. They had freed his love, defeated the greatest evil the world had known, and he had been vindicated. Now he had a daughter, the product of a wonderful marriage. His apprentice had become a master, finally coming into his own powers. Balthazar had done his job and done it well. He had also done more than his job required, and done it well.

Becky unscrewed the bottle of pepsi that they had gotten with the pizza. She poured it into four different plastic cups. Putting the bottle down she started to hand a glass to all of them. Veronica balanced hers carefully, shifting Lorna's weight. Balthazar took his and raised it upwards.

"A toast then?" he suggested.

Dave grinned and raised his glass upwards. Becky and Veronica followed suit.

"To not dying, not blowing each other up, getting this place clean at last and…" he gave a half smile, "The future."

"The future," they agreed.


	69. Prompt 80: Attic

80. Attic

October 31, 2014

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed since he had been imprisoned. It had felt that way when he was in the Grimhold and the Urn as well, just a continuous stream of time flowing past him. Horvath had no way of knowing just how much time that stream consisted of. All he knew was that some had passed.

There wasn't much to break the monotony of being inside the mirror. It was humiliating to be trapped inside of a mirror, his third enchanted prison. The worst part was being able to look out into the world outside of the glass. Once upon a time a sheet had shielded the world from his visage, but the sheet had slipped off as dust accumulated. Now he could see everything.

Not that there was much to see in that dismal enclosure. As far as he could tell he'd been shoved into an attic along with a good deal of other enchanted objects. Everything was haphazard, but the protections on his prison were much too powerful to be accidentally removed. No light filtered in due to the lack of windows.

Nothing ever happened in there either. No one ever came in. That was why the door opening surprised him. At first he couldn't see anything, just the door creaking open cautiously. Then a small girl peered in, as though checking if the coast was clear. When she saw that it was she shut the door behind her, pressing herself up against it and sighing.

She was puzzling in many ways. From what Horvath figured she couldn't have been more than three to start with. Long black hair fell around her shoulders and onto blue silk. The blue gown stopped at her knees, poofing out into an imitation of a ball gown. Over that a white apron edged in lace had been laid. White socks were stretched up to her knees with black shiny mary-janes.

The girl was the image of a Victorian school girl. She even had a blue bow in her hair. It was not, however, the Victorian age. He had hated that age for so many reasons, the very least of them being the disagreeable run-in he'd had with Balthazar in China. To see a child dressed like it in the twenty-first century was downright strange though.

Still looking cautiously about she stepped a little further into the room. Her head turned and she spotted him in the mirror. For a minute she stared at him, cocking her head. She clasped her hands behind her back and leaned closer, as though she was trying to figure out what was up with the mirror. He rolled his eyes.

"You're wrong," she said.

Horvath raised an eyebrow.

"I beg your pardon," he said, finding his voice raspy after so long a time of disuse.

"You can't be in a mirror," the girl said, not surprised at all, "'cause it's wrong. I'm supposed to be in a mirror."

"You're not making any sense, and wasting my time," Horvath said, pondering the fact that he'd said that to another child once, a lifetime ago.

"No, I'm making perfect sense," she insisted, "I'm Alice so **I **should be through the looking-glass."

Horvath's eyes scanned her outfit, trying to make sense of her words. Now that he was looking it did seem that her gown seemed familiar. Hadn't there been some sort of movie that had come out? Oh yes, she was dressed like the girl from that wretched Disney movie, with the exception that the bow in her hair was blue instead of black. Her stupid parents had probably changed it because of her hair color.

"So you are," he said, bored.

He could've just left. The space behind the mirror that Veronica had trapped him in was endless. However, he hadn't had a conversation in God only knew how long. That was why he was tolerating the annoying innocence of the child. Under normal circumstances he might have already killed her by this point.

"'s my first Hallow-een," she said proudly, "I get to go trick-or-treating with my parents. I wanted to be Alice."

"So I see."

"My mother made this," said the girl, twirling in her outfit, "Much better than what they sell in the stores. I think so, don't you?"

"I wouldn't know."

"You know," the girl said, sitting down on the ground in front of the mirror cross-legged, "You're in a mirror. Does that mean you're a ghost or something?"

The question amused him.

"Would you be scared if I was?" he asked.

"Nope," she said, popping the 'p', "Not at all. I've seen lots o' ghosts an' I'm gonna see lots more."

Her confidence was also a touch amusing and he wondered if all children these days saw things.

"What makes you so sure?"

"I'll be a 'pprentice in a few years, an' after that I'll be a sorceress like my mama," explained the girl, "An' then I'll see lots o' things. I'm keepin' a count. Only two months, three days, an' four years to go."

So she **was** three. The girl was three and the child of two magical parents. It certainly explained some things. At the same time it raised some other questions. Was he in the Chrysler Building? He was certainly somewhere magical. He'd have to figure that out if he planned to escape one day.

"I'm not a ghost though."

"Somethin' magical then," she said, grasping her ankles and rocking back and forth, "Do you like tootsie roll pops?"

He grimaced. Horvath had almost forgotten the irritating habit of children changing the subject without any warning.

"No."

"I like the purple ones," she said, "They're the best but I like red ones too. I hope I get lots tonight."

"If you're so eager to get candy," Horvath said impatiently, "Then why don't you go down and get some?"

She frowned.

"Can't."

"And why not?" he growled.

The girl stared at him evenly. She hadn't even flinched.

"'cause-I'm-hid-ing," she enunciated as if to a baby, which she was only a little older than, "I-can't-until-they-find-me."

Horvath groaned. He was being patronized by a three-year old.

"Then go find **them**."

"Game doesn't work that way," she explained, "Maybe hide-an'-seek, but I'm playin' run-'til-they-find-you. It's funner."

"That's not a word."

"Is so!"

"It's not," Horvath said dryly.

She smiled.

"I like you," she said, "You're funny."

Horvath blinked at her, taken back. Those were the last two phrases he'd expected anyone to utter. Just as he was about to express this to her the doorknob started to rattle. With a small shriek the girl got to her feet and ran behind a wooden trunk. Horvath withdrew to the depths of the mirror, keeping an eye at the event. It would be best if he was unseen.

A man came in, wiry in build but not scrawny either. His eyes scanned the room and his eyes narrowed as he looked at the floor. There was footprints in the dust, Horvath himself could see that and the man seemed to see that too. He held out his hand, his ring glowing as blue particles collected around-**Merlin's ring.**

He had to stop himself from taking in a sharp breath. When he looked hard he could see that this was, in fact, Dave, just older. He watched in loathing as the man walked over to the trunk and yanked the girl up, lifting her into the air. The girl shrieked and tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he held her tightly.

"Got 'ya!" he proclaimed loudly, "Gotta get you down stairs. Your mom's gonna be here any minute and if you're not there then she's gonna say that I wasn't watching you well enough and-"

"-you'll get in trouble! Yay!" the girl said.

"So will you."

"Will not!"

The girl continued to squirm, laughing as she did so. Dave shook his head and his eyes fixed on his surroundings. He became a little uncomfortable, looking for a minute right at the mirror. Horvath withdrew further, seething. The child was his was she? That took the cake, that really did.

Shaking his head Dave hoisted the girl so she was in a safer position, less likely to escape. Going out of the room he shut the door behind him. Horvath heard the door magically lock itself. Hatred that he had thought exhausted bubbled up and seethed. He'd have his time again. He always did after all.

He didn't hear the conversation that took place just after the pair had climbed down the stairs.

"You **would **get in trouble."

"Would **not**!"  
Dave sighed.

"You'll be the death of me Lorna."

"Would** not** Uncle Davey!"


	70. Prompt 90: Scent

90. Scent

Becky looked at the steak that Dave was getting ready for dinner. The package said 100% USDA ground beef, but she wasn't sure if she trusted it. Becky had always been suspicious of meat, never really being a big meat fan herself. Neither was Dave really, growing up with a mother who was a vegetarian. However, both of them could agree that stir-fry needed some form of meat.

"You finished with the vegetables?" asked Dave.

"My chopping skills are unsurpassed," Becky said, "Besides, I did a little of this this afternoon. I knew we were going to try stir-fry tonight."

Dave turned and opened his mouth to say something, before remembering who he was married to. Shaking his head he turned back to his work.

"Of course you did," he said, "Do you know how long we should cook this?"

She had married a whiz the real world, and was duly grateful for that, but a whiz in the kitchen he was not. Whenever the two of them ate something that wasn't take-out or frozen they had to collaborate to do it. Neither of them was much good separate, but together they made some pretty passable food.

"Recipe says about eight minutes," she said, checking the sheet that they had printed out from the internet, "I don't really trust internet recipes."

"Oh ye of little faith."

"Of course I don't have much faith. Remember the last time we tried a recipe off that site?"

"That was different," protested Dave, "That was lasagna. That was completely beyond our skill level."

"Not to mention we were baby-sitting Lorna."

"I don't know where that girl gets her energy from," Dave said, "I mean, she goes a million miles an hour. Two days ago, on Halloween, she runs off when I take a break to use the bathroom."

"She is a little vivacious."

"Try devious," snorted Dave, "I look for her for half an hour before I find her. You'll never guess where she was."

"Where?"

"The **attic**," Dave said, "Behind a huge trunk."

"How did she get **there**?"

"Search me."

"Does Balthazar teach her to be an escape artist or something?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Dave said, beginning to chop up the steak.

They had both decided on steak to accompany the rice and vegetables. It was Becky's favorite. However, for some reason it didn't seem appealing. In fact, the very scent seemed to make her want to go and throw up somewhere. That was unusual for her. At first she had thought that it was some other scent, perhaps another pair of Dave's socks had been fermenting under the couch for a month. That wasn't it though. She had checked.

So she had decided to ignore the problem. She had leaned against the counter as he cooked, as was customary, talking to him. She had already finished her part in preparing the meal. The scent was getting stronger as he cut it though. It travelled sickeningly through her nostrils and into her stomach where the smell curdled. Put in terms of **that **it was all that she could do not to throw up right then and there.

"Something wrong?" asked Dave.

"Nope," she replied promptly.

"Are you sure? You look a little…off."

"I'm perfectly fine," she said, faking a smile.

He went back to what he was doing. Becky was grateful that the lie had worked. In truth the sick feeling made her upset, and not just because she wanted to throw up. Feeling like that was the last thing that she needed. It was a rare occasion that she could do something like this with her husband.

Dave's job at the subways had led to bigger things. Becky had struggled but eventually found a good job with a radio station. This didn't exactly promote the best harmony between their schedules though. Between their jobs, him defending New York from magical threats, and her having occasional visions, it was rare that they could just relax together.

She had always known that being married to Dave had the possibility of being hard. The probability of them having children appeared slim for one. Having to share him with the world because of his talents was another one. Becky wondered if perhaps this was what the wives of politicians felt like.

Eating together was rare, as were times when they could just go someplace like they did when they were still in college. There were actually days where she didn't see him; and those days hurt the worst of all. Lately, when she came home and there was no one there to greet her but Tank and Dorothy she would inevitably feel depressed.

Watching the two dogs didn't really help. Tank had made it clear from the second that Becky had moved in with Dave that he was more or less indifferent to the new presence in his life. This seemed awkward, due to the fact that Dorothy appeared to think that he was some sort of toy that her mistress had purchased for her. For a while she had actually tried to pick him up in her mouth and have Becky toss him for her. That had been more than strange.

Still, they got on well enough now. It was just sort of hard to see that her dog had company and she didn't. Every now and then she would find it could get too much. When that happened she would go buy a box of chocolates and eat them all in one go. She had even had a few handy around the house.

Becky was disgusted at her occasional binging habits. It was so revolting the way she could demolish an entire jar of peanut butter. Oh yes, it had actually expanded. Soon chocolates became ice cream and peanut butter. She would just feel the sudden urge and since it didn't happen too often she didn't see the harm in it. However, she was gaining weight. It was noticeable, but Dave was too good of a guy to comment on it.

Her eyes followed him cutting the meat as he talked about his day at work. Becky didn't want to do it, she just couldn't help it. Every time the knife went through the uncooked meat she could practically feel the smell invading her. The sight of it was starting to bother her too now, the juices seeping out from the meat and onto the knife and the plate…

"-so what do you think?"

She blinked at him.

"Sorry, what?"

"I was just saying that the pirate movie you wanted to see is playing this weekend," he said, "I wanted to know if you wanted to go see it?"

"Of course."

Sighing he put the knife down into the juices. Some more squeezed out and spread over the entirety of the plate.

"If something's wrong you can tell me," said Dave, "I know things have been a little hectic recently but…I…"

"It's not that," Becky said, laying her hand against his cheek, "It really isn't."

"Then what is it?" he asked, his hand resting on the table and ending up dangerously close to the plate with the meat on it.

"…nothing."

"You can tell me," he said.

His fingers moved and actually touched some of the juices. That was it for her. Her stomach flipped upside down and Becky had to rush out of the room. She barely made it to the bathroom before her stomach emptied itself. Becky breathed out, feeling shaky and strange afterwards. She flushed the toilet to get rid of the vomit but stayed on the floor, still feeling completely weak.

A hand was laid on her shoulder. She turned back and saw Dave staring at her with wide eyes.

"You are definitely not alright," he said.

"I'm just feeling a little sick right now," said Becky, "I don't know…the meat smelled funny."

He frowned.

"It hasn't expired. I check stuff like that."

"Probably obsessively," sighed Becky, "But I'm fine…I'm…"

"We don't have to put meat in there," Dave said quickly, "Don't worry about it, okay? We can have the steak when it doesn't smell funny to you."

Sighing again Becky clasped his hand. She rested her head there and closed her eyes for a minute.

"We uh don't want any, um, more of this."

She smiled.

"Don't ever change Dave."


	71. Prompt 8: Monkey

8. Monkey

"Tabitha," sighed Veronica, "That's not a constructive way to use your air-binding powers."

Tabitha looked up from her desk innocently. As if to spite the small girl she'd been when she was younger she had shot up. Now she stood taller than her twin. However, she had also chopped off all of her hair to give it a cute look. It also had the unintended effect of making her harder to tell from her twin.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

Her sense of trouble and mischief hadn't changed though.

"You know what I'm talking about," said Veronica, thinking about what an inauspicious way this was to start practice.

"Nope," she said, "I don't have any clue, none in the least. Are you talking about my math homework?"

"You're beginning to try me," said Veronica.

"I'm not doing anything-"

"Look up."

Dutifully Tabitha did so. Her brother was suspended high up in the air, all but surfing on the air that roiled beneath him. He had even put on shoes with wheels in the heels to help him in his endeavor. Julian seemed to be doing nothing magical though. It was Tabitha's whose hand was spread out flat on the table and whose ring glowed.

"Well, would you look at that," she said.

"Tabitha."

"What? I told you I'm not doing anything."

"You very obviously are," Veronica said, "Now let him down."

"Aw, come on," whined Julian, "This is fun. You should try it."

"Yes," Tabitha said, "You should."

Her hand started to twist in Veronica's direction. Almost immediately Veronica started feeling a slight push towards the ceiling. Her eyes narrowed and she broke the spell by sending a gust of wind towards Tabitha. It wasn't much, but the girl had always had a problem keeping her mind cleared.

In shock Tabitha shrank back. For a minute Julian wavered in the air and looked as though he might fall. At the last minute Tabitha's hand shot out and steadied the air. Her brother hadn't exactly been passive in all of this; his own ring was glowing as well. The twins shot each other a relieved look.

"Nice catch," said Julian.

Veronica shook his head. They'd missed the point entirely.

"You'll break his arm," she told Tabitha.

"How do you know?"

She grimaced, a memory from her apprenticeship in her mind. It had been back when she had been an apprentice, but not before she started speaking to the two strange boys. They had just learned the levitation spell that day and were trying it out in the courtyards. She had peeped out on them and watched until Horvath had fallen down and broken his arm.

"Believe me, I know," said Veronica grimly.

"Then I'll heal it," shrugged Tabitha before directing her gaze up at her brother, "You cool with that?"

"Yup Tabby."

"Well I'm not," Veronica said irritably, yearning for the days when they did whatever she said without question, "Put him down immediately."

Making an 'awwww' sound that made her sound twelve instead of nearly fifteen she lowered her hand. The air pressure beneath her twin decreased. For his part Julian crossed his arms in a kind of pout until his feet touched the ground. When he was safely down he gave a disappointed look at Tabitha.

"You ruin all our fun," he informed Veronica.

"If that was your idea of fun, then good," Veronica said, "Now, did you read the chapter I assigned last night?"

They began to answer but were cut off by Becky opening the door. She paused at the door frame, obviously seeing that a lesson was in progress.

"Sorry," she said, "I can come back later."

Veronica was about to nod when she noticed that something was wrong with the girl. She seemed tired and sick.

"Don't worry, Tabitha and Julian were just about to practice drawing the symbols for wards."

"But those take forever!" complained Julian.

"**Now**."

Muttering to themselves the twins trudged into the Merlin's Circle in the middle of the room. She sighed at them before turning to Becky.

"How are things?" she asked.

"The usual," Becky said, "I just came in here because Dave left some stuff and Bianca told me you were here so…yeah."

She jiggled a bag in her hand for effect.

"That's good to know," said Veronica, "Things can get a little busy. Especially if you have to take care of two monkey apprentices."

"We can hear you!" shouted Julian.

"I know!" Veronica shouted back.

'Monkey' was her affectionate pet name for her apprentices. It seemed appropriate since they both had the habit of getting into things and making messes. They pretended not to know that though, and to take offense. She, in turn, pretended that she didn't know that they knew. Smiling she turned back to Becky who winced.

"Are you alright?" asked Veronica.

"Fine," Becky said, waving it off, "Just a little queasy."

From her position in the Circle Tabitha's ears perked up.

"I have been for a couple of days now.

Upon hearing this Tabitha nearly sprinted towards them, coming to stop by Veronica.

"Icanhelp," she said in a rush.

"Tabitha," Veronica said in a warning.

"I can," gasped Tabitha, "I can tell her what medicine she needs to take. Sometimes I can even diagnose what it is."

"She's just nauseous."

"For a few days," Tabitha said, "That can mean something you know."

Becky's eyes filled with amusement.

"This true?" she asked Veronica.

"Yes," admitted Veronica, "She's still developing it though."

"It's almost perfect," begged Tabitha.

"Mrs. Stutler doesn't want to be used as a guinea pig."

"That's such a crude term," Becky laughed, "And I'll give it a go."

Tabitha squeaked in excitement.

"Encouraging them can lead to no good," Veronica said.

"Where's the harm?"

"Don't say you weren't warned," Veronica said.

Without giving her time to respond Tabitha grabbed Becky's arm and dragged her into the Merlin's Circle. Julian quickly cleared out, looking excited.

"Okay," Tabitha said, "Let me just grab your hand."

She clasped Becky's hand and closed her eyes. The Circle lit up and for a minute Tabitha looked calm and confident. Then her face contorted, as if confused. Suddenly her eyes flew open and she started coughing violently. Pushing away from Becky she hurried towards the edge of the Circle where she duly threw up.

Veronica blinked in surprise.

"Oh," Becky said as Julian rushed over to his sister.

Tabitha got to her feet and magicked the sick into a trashcan before coughing some more.

"Are you okay?" asked Becky.

For a minute Tabitha looked like she was going to reply in the negative. Then she coughed again and said;

"Yeah, I think I just sympathy puked," she said.

"I think this should serve as a lesson to the monkey sister," Veronica said gently.

"Definitely," sighed Tabitha, forgetting once to feign outrage for once, "It's just that it was a lot to take in. So many magical lines and stuff all running around and all those hearts and more hearts means more vitals you know…so…yeah."

Veronica arched her eyebrow.

"Hearts?" Becky asked.

"Yeah," said Tabitha, pushing herself off the ground, "You totally should've warned me that you were pregnant."


	72. Prompt 100: Chaos

100. Chaos

Eight million different things ran around in Dave's head, chasing each other and getting tangled. The lines of code that he had to go through day after day made him want to bang his head up against the wall. This was a far cry from making music with tesla coils. Sometimes the job could be torture; plain and simple.

Other times though he could see the beauty of it. There was a good deal of physics involved, in ways that you really couldn't expect. What was a subway system, in the end, other than a slow moving rollercoaster? Those things were chock full of physics, which had surprised him when he first heard about it.

Dave felt that he was sure to design a rollercoaster one day. He liked to think that it would be a thrill ride for _Universa_l, but it would probably end up being some retro thing for _Disney_. Not that it was bad, just you could make _Universal_ ones scarier. Not that he'd ever have the guts to ride a scary rollercoaster, he just knew that other people liked it

"How's it going Stutler?"

Looking over his shoulder he saw, Sam, one of his co-workers. Sam was around eight years older than him, the youngest physicist there besides him. Many of them were hostile because of his age, especially when he found faults in their work and they were unable to find any in his. It hadn't exactly been a prime working environment, but Dave was used to not being liked for a variety of reasons.

Sam had been more intrigued by the college-grad than infuriated though. This had earned him some scorn as well, but he was the type to find that funny. His desk was around three cubicles down from Dave's. Whenever Dave saw him he was always drinking some sort of power drink, usually _Monster_, like he was doing now.

Dave saved his work before swiveling in his chair to face him.

"The usual."

He mimed shooting himself in the head. Sam nodded and jerked his thumb back at his computer.

"I know what you mean. Those codes are chaos," he said, "Two years they said. What a joke."

Dave nodded in agreement. When he had first signed on he'd been commissioned they had projected the project to run two years. However, his lease had expired before he'd finished and they'd had to renew it. This was just the planning stage. He couldn't imagine what it would be like for them to build this thing.

"But hey, pays the bills," shrugged Sam.

"Yeah. So how'd Jason's game go?" Dave asked.

Like Dave Sam had married fairly young. His son, Jason, was six years old. Apparently he played in little league too. Sam was proud of him and kept a picture of him on his desk next to a few other family shots. There was one with him and his wife on their honeymoon. They had actually gotten married when he was a little younger than Dave had been.

They actually weren't that different from his if you kept the idea of magic out of your head. There was one of Becky, naturally. There were also a few others of him with Baltahzar, Veronica, Lorna, and a few other scattered Merlinians. He had told him the usual spiel about Balthazar and Veronica being Becky's aunt and uncle. The rest he'd said were college friends or 'hunting' buddies. Dave had used the term hunting because it was, in a way, true. He was still a horrible liar after all.

"Hit their version of a home run," Sam said happily, "Kid can't get enough of baseball, really he can't. I'm thinking of taking him to a game for his birthday. You know, something like that."

"I'm sure he'd like that," said Dave, looking at the clock at the wall.

Sam followed his gaze.

"Yeah, overtime sucks," he said, "But you're young. You can take it."

The look Dave gave him was incredulous. Every time he had to work overtime he felt his insides melting from exhaustion. His usual release was five o'clock, but he'd worked until midnight sometimes. Becky didn't like it either, and he didn't like her not liking it. What was worse was that she never said anything about it. She was trying to understand, but he could tell that the hurt was there.

One day he hadn't been able to take it anymore, snapping when they were told that they would have another week of overtime; over the weekend. He had actually marched up to his boss one night and, with uncharacteristic bravado, he had said that most of the overtime they were making him work was in clear violation of his contract.

It had felt like someone else had done that. Then, whatever had possessed him had told them that if they didn't reverse it he'd have his lawyer come and talk to them. Merlinians apparently had a legal branch, which wasn't that surprising. When Merlinian lawyers sunk their teeth into a case though, they didn't let go.

However, the threat had been sufficient. They had actually dropped the overtime down for the entire office. That had shut some of his co-workers up about him, and prompted Sam to give him a slap on the back, which had left a bruise. Now this overtime was only until six o'clock. It was six now.

Feeling a little happier he switched off the monitor of his computer,

"Well, don't have to take any more tonight," he said, gathering his things up, "I have to head home now."

"Lucky you," said Sam, "I still have another hour."

Dave laughed and left his desk. He hailed a taxi home and got in. The last thing he wanted to think about at that moment were subways. Closing his eyes he leaned up against the cool window. The office was chaos and the apartment that was now his home was peace. Peace and Becky.

The taxi opened up and Dave got out. Feeling ready for a rest he walked up the stairs and went up to his door. He dug around in his pocket for a key before opening the door and trudging inside. Tank waddled up to greet him. Dave petted him on the head. Dorothy gave a bark but otherwise didn't move. She was far too sophisticated to get too excited.

He didn't hear Becky though. She was usually home at this time of the day and generally said **something**. Looking around he spied her sitting on the couch, her hands in her lap. She was staring straight ahead at the wall, looking a little stunned. Frowning Dave abandoned Tank and sat beside her.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

Her head turned towards him.

"I got your stuff back from the Chrysler building," she said blankly.

"Um…that's good."

"I ran into Veronica and her apprentices," continued Becky, still sounding dazed, "You know, the monkeys."

"That name's gonna stick," Dave said, wondering where all of this was leading.

"Tabitha noticed that I wasn't looking so good," Becky said, "You know she's got this technique where she can diagnose you?"

"Yeah," Dave said, "She'll jump at the slightest sniffle to try it out. I brought Tank in there once and she told me he had indigestion. Turns out he was right. Did she want to try it out on you?"

"She wanted to try it out on me," Beck said, sounding as though she hadn't quite heard him, "And then…Dave…"

A sick feeling twisted in his gut. She wasn't seriously ill was she? No, she couldn't be. He reached out and touched her hand.

"What did she say?"

For the first time Becky looked at him and really saw him. Her eyes welled up with tears. Her voice trembling she said;

"I'm pregnant Dave."

Chaos reigned inside of his mind. He couldn't see anything, could barely even feel anything. All of his numerous thoughts were more complicated and confusing then the lines of code that he had tried to sort out earlier that day. At least those were scientific. Through it all he heard her say;

"She said twins."

The codes seemed tangled for a little while longer. Then they fully registered the incident and sorted themselves. His mind rearranged itself and came out sharp and poignant. Dave's eyes started working, as did his other senses. Becky's face came into focus and her eager expression. He noticed that she was crying.

"I love you so much," he said.

Dave pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. Her arms clutched at his back. They were laughing and crying at the same time. And all was chaos.


	73. Prompt 86: Window

86. Window

Drake Stone was in trouble. Or rather, he'd be in trouble if anyone knew where he was. That was what bothered him. He had always grown up with the idea that trouble only actually existed if the other person knew. That was probably why he had always led such a crazed life; if no one knew then he'd be okay.

Still, being back in the big apple raised problems. The main one was, of course, that he wasn't supposed to be there. When you get orders from a superior Merlinian that tells you to go Russia then you're supposed to go to Russia. The Salem Merlinians had passed him that command directly from the office of the Chrysler building. They had been rather pompous about it too. He had serious trouble with authority characters.

The note had been in clipped, cold, business terms. There was a 'situation' there, a polite term for one hell of a mess. He had looked at the seal and at the tickets that were for three days from then to depart from the Boston airport. Everything had been in order, right down to his cover story for travelling. The last line had been 'and in no circumstances are you to disappear from the grid until then.'

"Yeah Bianca," he said, his grip tightening on the wheel of the rental car in anger at the thought of it, "Love 'ya too."

Despite the two years he figured that she was still as sour as ever. Some part of him had thought that her new husband, George or John or something, would calm her down. Apparently not. He might even be as frigid as she was. If he was then the Chrysler building was probably the center of a small Ice Age. Heaven forbid **they **have any children. If those orders were any indication of their marital status he'd have to say it was divorce level.

He had never, not even for a second, intended to catch that plane. Drake had understood, when he had first been given his next assignment, that the nature of his work would be ongoing. He'd almost always be away under false names and different faces. As long as he could still change his face then things would be fine. He actually kind of liked it that way. So he hadn't really been surprised at the new orders.

However, it had been two years. He had been given another nearly impossible job and he'd done it quite well. Two years had been the optimistic estimate for it. Drake had been under the impression that he deserved a break. After all, he had broken his collarbone and nearly lost an eye. That sort of thing required more than just some sort of bed rest. So he saw his trip to New York as a vacation.

Besides, he hated to admit it, but those two years had been somewhat lonely. He was starting to get something of a James Bond reputation; an unattached suave spy. This wouldn't have been bad if it were true. It wasn't though. Every time a girl flirted with him he started to get an ache for a certain red-head.

Now that he was finally able to get away he figured that he deserved some time to make that ache go away. He had never been one for following rules anyway. Getting disemboweled by Bianca, which he fully believed would happen, was worth it. Besides, he never had been one for planning ahead. Drake Stone lived in the moment.

He'd been relieved to find out that Ashley still lived in the same apartment. If his calculations were correct she'd be in her final year of college then. He couldn't believe that she'd hit twenty-one in his absence. They could've been drinking together. He'd sent her something, couldn't remember what it was, but hadn't really registered the idea in his mind.

Pulling up outside the apartment he checked the address. Then he checked the time. It was midnight. She must've been asleep, or pulling an all-nighter. Ashley had never been the all-nighter type though. That girl would've been studying for weeks in advance. The whole 'always prepared' thing probably came from being Bianca's apprentice.

Walking up the stairs he came face-to-face with the door to her apartment. It was faded but for the most part similar to what he remembered. For a minute he hesitated though. Drake hadn't exactly composed what he was going to say to her after so long away. Sure they'd used the phone and Skype before but…not this. He wondered if her hair was still as soft, if she still laughed when you pulled it. Maybe she'd switched shampoos, dyed her hair, or gotten a bad tan job? What if there was nothing similar left?

He shook those thoughts away. It had only been two years after all and he had talked to her over the phone only a week ago. Two years was nothing, not really. It was something to think about though. There would be changes. With these thoughts he rang the doorbell. Nothing happened. He rang it again and waited. Feeling impatient he rang it three more times, hopping from one foot to another.

Ashley could just not, for whatever reason, be home. He checked the welcome mat. It was always at a certain angle when she was home because of the way she kicked it up. It was at that angle. Now Drake was starting to feel worried, a familiar feeling in the days when his gut instinct was the only thing keeping him from a messy demise.

Drake looked at the window at the end of the landing. Feeling very practical he walked over to it. He opened it and saw a corresponding window not too far away. If memory served him correctly, and the layout was right, then that one went straight to Ashley's apartment. There'd be wards there no doubt, but Drake could deal with those. He dampened his aura as much as possible so that the wards would recognize him as a magonisi and ignore him. There was always a loophole somewhere.

Then he proceeded to lean over and use magic to unlock it. So far so good. This was actually a very easy maneuver considering. He'd once had to do this with a window twice this distance away while being chased by wolves that an angry Morgnian had conjured. They'd managed to make off with one of his shoes before he got away. He frowned at the memory, remembering someone say that Horvath had once sent wolves after Wonder Boy. What was it with Morganians and wolves?

Once the window to the apartment was unlocked he pushed himself out of the hallway one. Then he gripped the ledge and swiveled himself around. The way the wind was blowing made him uncomfortable, but he had learned by that point to push such feelings aside. Any sort of phobia such as the fear of heights, speed, falling objects, sharp objects, blunt objects, elemental spells, and carnivores had to be conquered quickly. Besides, this was simple and he was almost done. He'd already made it out. After that it was just a matter of sliding himself into the unlocked window.

The living room was much the way that he remembered it. Everything was neat and orderly inside, the result of having a family apartment lived in by one person. There were a few more pictures in it; none of which were of Ashley's family. Some of them were of the girl in question, some of him, some of them together. Others were of her friends and other Merlinians. It made him glad to know that someone was putting pictures up again.

However, he wasn't really looking for that. He was looking for signs of foul play, any broken glass or magical residue. Drake held out his hand, the stone glowing a bit. He couldn't feel or see anything like that. Perhaps she had just slept through the doorbells. If he recalled correctly Ashley was a very heavy sleeper. On a normal day she had three alarm clocks go off in order to get up on time. It had nearly driven him mad.

No sooner had he realized this then he heard movement to his right. Drake jumped out of the way just as a baseball bat crashed into where his skull normally was. Instead it got his shoulder, which wasn't much of a comfort since it hurt like hell. It was quickly followed by another blow to his stomach. There were two more before he could push himself far enough away to catch his breath.

"Shit!" he yelled.

The baseball bat paused as though its holder was trying to figure something out. A light flipped on and he saw Ashley wielding the baseball bat with wide eyes. Her hair was falling loosely around her shoulders instead of in her usual ponytail, thankfully still red. She was in her pajamas which consisted of a tank top and shorts. Despite the fact that his entire torso screamed out in pain he took the time to admire the view.

"Drake!" she exclaimed, dropping the baseball bat.

The pain in his torso flared up again.

"Nice to see you too," he said, clutching his sides with his arms, "Is the baseball bat new or what luv?"

"I could've killed you!"

"Nearly did," he grunted, "Was worried. You weren't answerin' the door. Rang five times."

"You know I'm dead to the world when I sleep," said Ashley, still looking down at him, "And I just…I **was** asleep…"

"Well you're awake now."

In response she sank down on her knees and pulled him close. His torso was screaming but for once he didn't care. Drake actually took his arms off of his sides and cemented her closeness. Her arms twined around his neck and he buried his face in her hair. It was as soft as he remembered it.

"Yeah," she said, "I'm awake now you asshole."


	74. Prompt 42: Pizzazz

42. Pizzazz

"You know Bianca's going to kill you for this," Ashley remarked.

Drake shrugged lazily as they ascended to the top of the Chrysler building in an elevator. It had been awhile since he'd been in the building. He hadn't been looking forward to it, but he was something of a professional now. Professionals didn't put off until later what could be done now.

"Better her find out now then later luv," he said.

"Not really. If she kills you now then we've only spent a running total of ten hours together," said Ashley.

"She won't kill me. I've got too much pizzazz."

Ashley rolled her eyes.

"Ten hours" she repeated, "And you were sleeping for six of them."

"Jet lag," he said, "If you hadn't given me my old room back then believe me, I would've been up all night."

He smirked and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"So would you as a matter of fact."

Snorting she pushed his arm away.

"Dream on."

"Every night darlin'."

"Stop it."

Drake grinned and leaned against the wall of the elevator.

"Besides," he said, "Won't they wonder if you don't turn up for archery practice or somethin'?"

"You're right," admitted Ashley, "But Bianca isn't usually here around now."

"I'll leave a message," Drake said, "We can 'ave her call us for a change. Her voice is always so melodious when she's shouting over the phone."

She grimaced and he tugged on some more of her hair. The ponytail that she'd put it in came undone, letting her hair curl endearingly around her face. Laughing she pushed him away again and started to put her hair up. Drake watched her, wondering if he had enough time to try something else before the doors to the elevator opened.

He had only seconds to think this before the doors indeed opened. A blur crashed into him, knocking him down. Drake hit his head against the opposite wall of the elevator and he slid down to the floor. A weight settled on his chest and for a moment he saw only stars. Concentrating he managed to focus his eyes and see the source of the weight. It appeared to be a girl who, judging by the pain in his intestines, was sitting square on his stomach.

"Ashl'y," she said, "You've got a funny-looking guy with you."

From somewhere further up he heard Ashley stifle a giggle. Little much there when he was on the floor writhing in pain.

"Geroff," he said.

"Nope," the girl replied cheerfully.

"Lorna," Ashley said, "Come on, the doors are going to close."

With a smile the girl hopped up and onto her feet. She grabbed Ashley's hand and looked down at Drake. By his calculations the girl was at least three years old. He struggled to get back up, his injuries from when he'd come through Ashley's window already aggravated. Now he could add bruises on his head to the list.

The doors to the elevator opened again and they stepped out. Ashley smiled and looked down at the small girl.

"Lorna," she said, "What are you doing running into elevators this time?"

Lorna gave an angelic smile.

"I was only playing a game with Mike," she said.

"Who the 'ell is Mike?" asked Drake, furrowing his eyebrow.

She flashed that same smile at him.

"Who the 'ell are **you**?" she asked.

Ashley paled.

"Intelligent aren't you?" asked Drake happily.

"Great job Drake," snapped Ashley, "You've just taught Balthazar and Veronica's daughter a swear word."

"Huh," he said, looking down at the child who did actually look a little familiar, "You're the Blake brat?"

"I'm not a brat," she protested stoutly, "You're a brat."

He saw her tug on Ashley's pant leg, probably her way of being sneaky.

"What's a brat?" she whispered.

Before Ashley could answer they heard a scream from down the hall of;

"YOU!"

Giggling Lorna took off down the hall, running far too fast for any child her age. Drake caught a glimpse of Michael running after her. Michael nodded briefly at Ashley, frowned at Drake, and then continued his trip. Drake couldn't help but smirk; he had never particularly liked Michael.

"Balthazar and Dave are off trying to fix a goblin problem in Brooklyn," said Ashley, "And Veronica's working with the twins in Central park. Becky's…indisposed. Now that Lorna's old enough to have an idea of her surroundings but not old enough to be left on her own she gets baby-sat from time to time. Mostly it's with Dave, but like I said; he and his wife are busy."

"So 'Mike' got saddled with her," chortled Drake, "Oh, she looks like a little hellion there."

"She certainly has a lot of energy," Ashley said, "Not uncommon in children before they express their magic."

"She's got a good couple o' years before she can be an apprentice," he mused, "What I wouldn't give to see that girl drivin' the Boy Wonder up the wall."

"Well, you won't be seeing it, I can tell you that."

Drake froze. The voice. That voice had toppled Morganians and commanded generations of Merlinians. Now it was going to kill him. Gulping he turned around and gave his best smirk.

"Heya Bianca," he said.

Bianca crossed her arms and glared at him.

"Prime Stafford now."

"I know," Drake said, "I can't adequately express my sympathy for George."

She gave him a thin-lipped smile.

"Cute, real cute," said Bianca, "Drake, could you step into my office for a minute?"

Still trying to pretend like he was unafraid he trotted into the opened door. Ashley started to follow him but Bianca said;

"Don't you have archery practice Ashley?"

Ashley sighed.

"Really?"

"Really," agreed Bianca.

The door closed ominously. Bianca stood by it and sighed.

"What am I going to do with you?" she asked.

"Give me an award and a gallon of ice cream?" he asked, "Come on, it's only been a few hours. I should have more time than that."

Bianca shrugged.

"Yes, of course. By all means take all the time you want."

He couldn't have heard her right.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

She laughed and walked over to her desk. Flopping down in the chair she gave him an unpleasant smile.

"Drake, I knew you were going to come here immediately after you were done no matter what the hell I told you," she said.

Things weren't making sense.

"So why tell me to-?"

"So that I couldn't be blamed when the Prime of Minsk comes over and starts complaining," she said, "That guy is a bastard and honestly I've been looking for an excuse to set him up since the 1960's. Now he looks like an idiot to his underlings since you didn't arrive on time and I have complete deniability."

The wheels in his head clicked.

"You just completely manipulated me."

"No, I **predicted** you," corrected Bianca, "It was easy and much more satisfying. It makes me much smarter than you and it's how a leader does things. Ashley's probably waiting for you outside. I wouldn't keep her waiting."

Drake gave her a sour look as he got up.

"You're pretty despicable, know that right?"

"I missed you too Drake," she said, not looking up.

Rolling his eyes he pushed open the doors. Ashley was waiting for him, true to what Bianca had said. She was pretty good at reading people.

"That was quick," said Ashley, "I guess she **didn't** kill you."

He gave her a pained smirk.

"Nah, I've got too much pizzazz."


	75. Prompt 14: Stew

14. Stew

Becky knew she shouldn't be cooking. Most of what she wanted to cook ended up in a kitchen nightmare. Scorch marks on the ceiling were a constant testament to that. However, cravings came and went without her bidding them too. At six months along she had realized that it was better to just give into them. She was eating for three now after all and stew was supposed to be nourishing.

The gender of their children was a mystery to her. Becky felt that it would be better as a surprise, but also that the possibility of the doctor's getting it wrong was high. She herself had been predicted as a boy. Nothing worse than painting the room blue, getting all excited for a boy, and then having a girl. There was nothing wrong with it, it was just you weren't getting what you had expected.

The doorbell rang. Dorothy started barking and Tank lifted his head up lazily before letting it fall. Becky frowned and checked her watch. It was three hours before Dave was due to come home. She hadn't been expecting anyone. Most of her friends would have called in advance. The wards weren't going off, so it didn't appear that anything serious was about to happen. Nonetheless she went over to the door.

She made sure that the chain was connected to the door lock before undoing all of the other locks. When she opened it though, her heart stopped.

"Re-Becky."

"Mother," Becky said, her voice calm but her insides turning to pudding, "What are you doing here?"

Her mother stared at her dumbly. Some of the plastic surgery was fading away, almost like the flesh was melting a little. Her wrinkles had started to come in. If Becky had done her math right then her mother should've been around fifty now. She was starting to look closer to sixty though.

"You're pregnant," her mother said.

"And married," Becky said, her voice coming out sharper than she'd intended, "Married Dave. You know him. You've met him."

She curled one of her hands protectively over her large belly.

"Yes, yes I have," her mother said.

"It was at that wedding you didn't attend," Becky said, feeling angry that this had to happen now of all times, "Invitation get lost in the mail?"

Her memory flickered back to the picture that her grandmother had given her of her mother burning the invitation.

"No I…got rid of it," her mother said, "Burned it."

Becky was shocked. Not shocked that her grandmother had been right, just that her mother had actually admitted to it. Shaking her head she gathered herself and asked;

"So what are you doing here?"

"I'm not married. That man I told you about when you turned twenty-one? I didn't marry him you know," she said, "My last name is still Black."

The way she changed the subject made her a little uncomfortable. So she hadn't married him? Still, that wasn't what she had wanted to know.

"Whatever," Becky said, feeling irritable and scared, "I'm not here to talk about that. I want to know what the hell you're doing on my doorstep."

Ms. Black looked down, her hands twisting.

"Can I come in?"

"No, you can't," she said, "Not until you at least tell me what this is about."

For a moment her mother remained quiet. Becky wondered if she was going to say anything at all. Finally she said;

"I'd like to mend a few bridges if it's possible."

Not sure if she was doing the right thing Becky undid the latch on the door and let her mother in. Dorothy started barking but stopped when Becky quieted her. Tank lifted his head to see if it was Dave before letting himself settle down. That was one good thing about the small bulldog; predictability.

Becky sat down, adjusting her movements to accommodate her belly. Everything about her was curiously weighed down; nothing felt quite right. Many were the times that Dave had opened the door for her or tried to rearrange the furniture to make things easier. She had laughed at that at the time, but she wished that Dave were there now. He'd help her through this. This wouldn't have been such a big deal otherwise.

"It's a nice place," said her mother without a hint of sarcasm.

"Yeah. Dave found it," Becky said, "He found out about it from a friend of a friend…something along those lines."

Her mother nodded. An awkward silence descended. How did you patch a rift that had grown so large over the years?

"So, um, where is Dave?" asked Ms. Black, sitting across her in an armchair, "It said that the Stutlers lived here so I assumed that-"

"He's at work," Becky said.

"What does he do?"

"Work on the subway system," Becky said, thinking about how strange it was to have such a normal conversation, "I only do the morning shift on the radio station but he's got a very involved job."

"I know," her mother said, "Well, not about Dave, but about your job I mean. You see, I hear you."

She blinked.

"I get New York frequencies," explained Ms. Black, "I listen to it. You…you're good. You really are."

Something gripped Becky. She quickly got up, or as quickly as possible, and headed to the kitchen.

"Becky?" her mother called tremulously.

"I'll be back in a minute," she said, "I've got stew on the stove."

Entering the kitchen she gripped the sides of the counter. This was all too much to take in. First there was her mother turning up on her doorstep. Then next she heard that the woman who had burned her invitation to her wedding was listening to her on the radio. How did these things happen?

She shook her head and stirred the stew. Suddenly she didn't feel so hungry anymore. Becky didn't want to be anywhere near the stew. Its very smell made her feel disgusted. She wanted to get away from the kitchen, away from her home. No, she wanted to just go back to the way things had been twenty minutes ago; uncomplicated.

Becky started crying. She couldn't help it. Things were wrong. She didn't understand anything right then. How could her mother come now of all times? If she had wanted to reconcile then why couldn't she have come at her wedding? Why did she need to burn the invitation? Why, why, why?

Footsteps echoed into the kitchen. She turned around and saw her mother staring at her sorrowfully.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I shouldn't have come. I…I don't know what I expected to happen when I came."

She looked down at her hands.

"I don't know what I was doing with my life, why I wanted you to be a lawyer," she said, "It's just, you have these foolish ideas that just take a hold of you. I…I…I wanted to **do** what was best for you, but I didn't **know **what was best for you."

A small laugh escaped her mother.

"You knew though."

Becky didn't say anything, too transfixed with the stream of events. Her mother struggled with her words.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I'm sorry that I wasn't a mother. I'm sorry I made your grandmother take my role. I'm sorry that she did it better than I could've. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Becky."

Taking a deep breath her mother turned to go. Becky reached for her shoulder. Her mother turned and looked at her.

"I want my children to have two grandmothers," she blurted out, "I want you to…oh…please don't go."

Tears sprang from her mother's eyes. She wrapped her arms around Becky and pulled her close. They both cried in each other's arms, but Becky felt that she wasn't just crying. The tears were superfluous, they were coming but they didn't mean anything. Her stew was also burning, but that didn't matter either. She had gotten her mother back after all.


	76. Prompt 82: Basement

_**A/N: **__This is going to be a little flashback heavy, but I think we need to see how Dave feels about this. Also, keep in mind that it's been around three years since Becky broke with her mother. There's been plenty of time for her mother to mull this over. _

82. Basement

Dave hadn't known what he'd expected to come home to that day. Truth be told he hadn't been expecting anything to happen. Everything was supposed to be just about the same as every day. Nothing was supposed to be special about it. When he opened the door though he realized that that wouldn't be the case.

Becky's mother was sitting on the couch, staring at what looked like a cup of tea. She looked up when he came in and Dave froze. Dorothy wasn't freaking out, so he wondered if he was hallucinating. However, he knew he was too sound of mind for that sort of thing. A memory dredged up from the dark basement of his mind floated to the surface.

…_the door opened. He had expected Becky or Jill. Instead he saw a woman who appeared to be in her late twenties. It was hard to tell her age though. There was something off about her hair and face that made him wonder just how old she was. Her eyes took him in shrewdly._

_ "Yes?" she asked._

_ "Uhm, is Becky in?" he asked._

_ "Oh, are you her tutor?" she asked patronizingly with an artificial smile._

_ He blinked._

_ "Um, wha-no," he said, feeling like he'd just been smacked in the face, "I'm her boyfriend."_

_ A quick look of disgust came across the woman's face._

_ "Really?" she asked skeptically._

_ "Yeah," he said firmly._

"Dave?" Becky called.

He shook himself out of it.

"Yeah, I'm here," he said.

"You're a little late tonight."

"Work was busy," he said, wondering when she was going to mention her mother in the living room, "You didn't tell me your mother was coming."

"I didn't know until a few hours ago. I would've called but I'm out of minutes. You know how bad I am at keeping track of them," said Becky, coming in from the kitchen, "Dinner burnt. Sorry about that. I needed to start over again, and we're going to need more food now so…yeah."

Dave wanted to scream. He wanted to jump up and down and yell 'Your mother's here! You know, the one who burned the invitation to the wedding and ditched you with your grandmother!' He thought better of it though and sat down in a free chair. He'd never been the type for going insane in front of Becky.

"So, um…"

"Mom's going to be in town for a few weeks," Becky said, "She might be able to be here when our children are born, but you we're not sure. You know how things get."

"Do I?" asked Dave weakly.

"Sometimes things get out of our hands."

He looked over at his mother-in-law, hearing her voice for the first time in years.

_"What major?"_

_ Again a little taken aback he managed;_

_ "Physics."_

"_Oh. Hmmm. You know, I didn't think that she needed __**that **__much help with her school work," she said, "I didn't think you needed to date someone to get it either. Don't they have T.A's for that?"_

_Dave swallowed his next remark, remembering that any swear words coming from his mouth sounded ridiculous._

"_But no," she added as an afterthought, "she's not in."_

"_I'll come back later then," Dave said instead, taking a few steps back in order to leave._

"_How cute. But wouldn't bother if I were you," she said. _

_Quietly he counted up a few stress-relieving techniques he'd been taught. _

"_I uh, don't think we've met," he said._

_ "There's a good reason for that," she said, her patronizing tone and smile returning, "You see…"_

"Too true," he babbled, "We were working on this one section of the subway the other day and it turned out that the code lines were backwards and we had to go and do them all again by hand."

"Dave, you know I don't understand a word of what you're saying when you talk like that," Becky said.

"Don't know how else to explain it…"

"I'm a radio DJ and Mom's a lawyer," grinned Becky, "That physics stuff is never going to make sense."

"Don't worry about it," her mother said, "I'm very interested to hear about Dave's work."

She smiled at him, the first time she'd ever done that without a hint of patronization.

_"She uh, she didn't like me at all."_

_ "Now you're exaggerating-"_

_ "No, I'm not."_

"_Well how do you know?"_

"_She said so," Dave said miserably._

"_Huh," Balthazar said, wincing, "And what did Becky say?"_

"_She wasn't there."_

"I have to go in the kitchen. Don't worry, I'll be right back," said Becky, "I have to go and make sure that dinner doesn't burn this time around. We can't afford to go around wasting food after all."

She got up and Dave was left alone with what he'd always considered was the mother-in-law from hell. He wondered that Becky had let her in. Admittedly she was her mother but from what Becky had said they had never been close. However, it fell to him to try and smooth the awkwardness over. That really sucked because he'd never been good at that.

"I'm sorry," Becky's mother said quietly, "I haven't forgotten what I said to you you know."

He blinked and squirmed.

"Obviously you haven't either," she said, "And I don't expect you to forgive me; I didn't expect my daughter to forgive me. If you'll think a little better of me…never mind."

She looked down. Before he could help himself he blurted out;

"Why are you here?"

She kept her head down as Dave started to stammer out an apology.

"No," she said, "Listen, I don't expect you to understand. But…I woke up last week and I thought; there's something important about this month. Now, what's important about it?"

"Becky's birthday is in two weeks," he said automatically.

She nodded.

"Yes, and I realized that after I thought hard about it," she said, "And then I thought; I don't know my only child's birthday."

Sighing she swirled around the tea inside of her cup.

"Then I thought about the fact that she turns twenty-five soon. That was the age I was when I married her father," she said, "And then I thought; why am I still here? I just realized how stupid my life was. I used to think it was fun, but shallow's probably a better word."

Dave wanted to agree, but he didn't say anything. There was too much going on here, too much that he was transfixed by.

"I don't know what my face looks like anymore," she said, "My real one. And then I started crying and I thought that I needed to do something. I didn't expect forgiveness, just wanted to offer it. But Becky gave it to me anyway."

She gave a sad smile. When she did that he was struck by the fact that, when she did that, she did look a little like Becky.

"_I don't know if this helps at all, but I'm glad that I did. Get over it I mean."_

_Dave looked up thoughtfully._

"_Thanks," he said, "That couldn't have been…you know…easy."_

_Balthazar snorted._

"_It wasn't," he said gruffly, "So you'd better appreciate it and put it to good use."_

If Becky had already given it to her, then he had no right to deny forgiveness.

"I wouldn't mention it again," he said gently, "No need to."

She looked up in surprise. Becky came back into the room and Dave shoved the memory back where it belonged; in the basement of his mind.


	77. Prompt 12: Ear

_**A/N: **__Honest confession; I haven't thought up names for Becky and Dave's kids. I'm thinking they're going to need them soon. Sort of awkward otherwise. _

12. Ear

Everything was progressing normally, despite the fact that Becky had started her labor nearly a month early. If the doctor could be believed everything was fine. Dave was of course a wreck, but as a young father it was his duty to be such. It was almost amusing to see how twitchy he got, how many times he went in and out of the delivery room. He wouldn't say that, Balthazar did have a little tact. Still, he couldn't help but notice.

He was in there now. Veronica had politely asked Becky if she wanted less people in the room. She had been a midwife and she knew that most women didn't want it crowded. Becky had admitted that she preferred it when fewer people were in there. Balthazar had made a beeline for the door. He had been with Veronica, true enough. She was his wife though, and he knew that things would be getting messy quite soon.

Now they were all in the hallway. They hadn't been able to get a babysitter for Lorna on such short notice, so they'd had to bring her with them. He'd been worried about her being in a hospital, but after running around the hallway twice she had settled down. The stairs had been a little hard on her and she sat in his lap, exhausted and napping.

On Balthazar's left sat Veronica, who was reading a book. Her eyes flickered towards the door every now and then, but she said nothing. On his other side sat Dave's mother and further down was Becky's. There had been an awkward moment when Joanne had met Elizabeth, Becky's mother. They had shook hands and Balthazar could see it all flashing through her eyes. He didn't know just how much Dave or Becky had told her, but he could see that it had been enough.

For once though Joanne had held her tongue. The worst part had been when Elizabeth had asked who Balthazar and Veronica were. He felt flabbergasted, not quite anticipating the question. It had been a rather hectic day after all. Both fortunately and unfortunately of him Joanne had had better presence of mind.

She had looped an arm around his shoulders and cheerfully proclaimed;

"He's my brother, Dave's uncle. That's his wife over there, Veronica. And that's his daughter, my niece. Her name's Lorna."

Lorna had just been chased down by her mother at the time. She had been kicking playfully but was calming down.

"I see," said Elizabeth, giving a tentative smile.

Balthazar had been grateful for her intervention for all of two seconds. He had forgotten that earlier in the week she had asked Dave what training was like. He had told her everything, including the plasma bolts. Balthazar had wished that he'd had the sense to think that one through a little more before he had.

He had been aware that Dave had been beaten up a few times when he was younger. He didn't know that his mother had been a crusader in her attempts to keep her son protected. It wasn't until later that he learned of the trips to the principal's office and the tongue lashing that he had gotten. The idea of plasma bolts didn't resonate well with her.

To Dave's credit he had seen his mistake almost immediately. While he had also described the reason behind them, Joanne hadn't particularly liked the idea of her son getting zapped around. What mother would though? She didn't' hate Balthazar, but it was apparent that she thought some sort of retribution was in order.

"Can't you see the family resemblance?" she'd continued, still cheerful, "He's the younger brother of course. You should've seen the fights we used to get into. Always went crying right to mom."

Before he even knew what he was saying Balthazar had snapped;

"Did **not**."

Joanne had grinned broadly.

"What I tell you?" she asked, taking her arm off his shoulder, "Always a little something of the black sheep. When he brought Veronica here to meet mom it was all I could do not to scream 'Thank God'! I mean, seriously, I didn't want to frighten her off or anything. But they're married now so it's not like she can get out of it."

Worst of all Veronica had been laughing behind her hand. He had given her a grumpy look, but that had been hours ago. Now things had settled down. Minutes were ticking slowly by, accented by Elizabeth going in every now and then to check on Becky. She didn't want to crowd her either. Dave was rarely out of the room which was how it should be really.

Time dragged on. Balthazar didn't know just how long labor was supposed to last. Being the youngest in his family was a contributing factor, as well as the fact that he had been away when Albin had been born. He hadn't bothered to time his wife's, she had been in critical condition throughout most of it. His only thought during the whole situation had been a fervent prayer that he wouldn't lose any of his newfound happiness.

He could still remember it, still hear them on nights when his sleep was troubled.

_Oh God no…please don't take this from me…don't hurt her…don't hurt __**either **__of them…I can't…not after everything…please…_

Lorna shuffled in his arms. He looked down at her and smiled. Here she was though. She had come through all of that to become the most energetic child he'd ever seen. Lorna was also showing a little magic potential which let him envision what he thought of as a continuity. He had trained Dave and now Dave would train his daughter. Whether or not she had had magic had never mattered much to him, especially since she had lived.

There was more activity around the room. He sat up straighter, causing Lorna to start. Elizabeth got up almost nervously, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Finally there was something that sounded like a scream. Lorna woke up fully then, blinking and looking around. By the time she was alert though it was almost over.

Ten minutes passed. Elizabeth eyed the door with a strange expression. Joanne shared a similar one. These children would be their first grandchildren. No doubt that was something to be excited about. It was almost like having grandchildren himself, he could admit that Dave was like a son to him to himself after all.

The doors opened up. Dave stood in them, looking excited.

"Both boys," he babbled, "We don't have two boy names picked out but we'll figure it out and…and…"

His words dropped up. The new grandmothers stared, their hands clasped.

"Congratulations," said Balthazar.

"'lations," murmured Lorna.

Two hours later he actually got to see the twins. Becky was holding them both with an intense pride, much better after having a few hours of rest. Balthazar felt like he could use some rest too. The only ones who had been able to get to sleep were Lorna and Joanne. Dave's mother could probably fall asleep during a hurricane.

They had all offered their congratulations and had talked for a while. There were balloons, chocolates, and flowers to hand out and were done duly. That was the sort of thing you expected from friends and family. Bianca had been in England at the time, otherwise she would've come too. The large flower arrangement proclaimed her own presence though.

Lorna had gone up to the railing of the bed and looked at the two small babies. She was quite curious. His daughter had pushed herself on her toes and peered at them. Smiling Becky had shifted them so she could get a better look. She cocked her head from side to side and stood taller on her toes.

"They've got funny ears," she said finally, "Kinda wrinkly."

"So were yours," Veronica said.

"Maybe. They're cute though," said Lorna thoughtfully, beginning to chew her lip, "Despite the ears."

She looked at them again before turning to her mother.

"Can I keep one?"

There was a long, strange silence.

"What?" asked Lorna defiantly, "She's got two."

Lorna inclined her head to Becky.

"You've got two," she said.

"Lorna," said Becky cautiously, "Why do you want-?"

"I want playmates," said Lorna, nodding her head very matter-of-factly, "Take 'em home an' show 'em my toys. They can play with 'em too, if they want."

She looked around at the assembled faces.

"I'd bring 'im **back**," she said, "Funny ears and all."

Balthazar couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. Joanne followed suit and before long everyone, including the new parents, were laughing. Lorna shook her head.

"I don't get it."


	78. Prompt 81: Closet

_**A/N: **__A special thanks to kenobigirlilz and noamg for the name suggestions. _

81. Closet

A clock struck two a.m. Dave rolled over in his sleep, visions of sugar plasma bolts in his head. Unfortunately for him a cry broke the silence of the night.

"Eli," muttered Becky.

He woke up, his eyes not quite opening though.

"Thought it was Kevin," Dave muttered back.

A second cry joined the first. This one was quieter, almost as if the child uttering it were trying to see how unobtrusive he could make it.

"**That's** Kevin," she said.

"Maybe you're right," Dave said sleepily, giving a large yawn, "But I'm not getting up to go find out."

"Yes you are."

The crying continued.

"I did it last time," complained Dave, "And I've got to de-conflict the stress on the beta line tomorrow."

"You're just giving me techno-babble now."

"Am not."

"You told me the same thing last time."

"Oh," Dave said, thinking of how being tired just made him a worse liar, "Well I did do it last time."

"No, you did it the time before. Now unless you want to hear your children cry all night I suggest you go do something about it."

"Alright, alright," Dave said, getting out of the warm room and feeling the chilly floor with his feet, "Do you know where my slippers are?"

"No, why?"

"Because I'm always losing them," sighed Dave.

Deprived of his slippers he walked down the hall. It was a short trip since they'd put the twins right next door recently; until then they'd been in the next room. Well, it should have been a short trip. He accidentally walked into the hallway closet, shutting himself in there. Being up at odd hours made him make crazy mistakes, like drinking cups of empty coffee.

Embarrassed out of his mind he struggled for several minutes to get out. Very soon he realized that closets couldn't be opened from the inside. Nearby his sons were still crying and he knew Becky was probably wondering what was taking him so long. Feeling incredibly foolish he magicked himself out.

When he got there Kevin had stopped crying; apparently the only reason he had started was because Eli had. His brother continued to though and Dave picked him up.

"Why are you cryin', huh?" asked Dave, "You're growing up more like your old man than you know."

Eli sucked in a big breath before giving out another cry. Seeing that Eli was getting more attention than him Kevin started as well.

"You're jealous, aren't you? Never thought my kids would like me enough to scream if I'm holding one and not the other."

The cry got louder.

"Glad I never had any siblings," said Dave.

With great difficulty he picked them both up and started rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Wonder if Balthazar ever had any trouble with this," he said, "Always came to practice looking mighty tired. I asked him about this sort of thing the other day. He said telling a story helped but I'm not good with that."

He sighed.

"I'm blabberin' on to you guys now and you don't even understand. You're not even going to remember this conversation and here I am, going on and on," said Dave as they quieted, "I wonder if Balthazar did that too."

Dave thought about that and tried to fit his head around the image.

"Probably not," he said finally, "Even at two a.m. the guy probably had too much dignity."

He shook his head.

"O' course, he probably got Lorna to call me Uncle Davey," he said, "It's just the sort of joke that would appeal to him. That's downright embarrassing."

Kevin waved his hand.

"So glad you agree," said Dave, "So I'm going to give the two of you a little mission. I'm going to teach you two to call him Uncle Balthy. Let's see the look on his face the first time you do that."

Sighing he leaned back. His sons were quiet now, but they were both wide awake. Gently Dave placed them both back into their cradles, one after the other. He continued rocking them though. Dave couldn't go back to bed with the job half done on this. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he did that.

Looking down at his sons he registered the identical features. While he would never admit this to Becky most young babies looked the same to him. Kevin and Eli were no exceptions to this. However, he did notice a few things about them. Both had blonde hair and green eyes. The blonde hair came from Becky; he had no idea where the green eyes were from though. They probably got them from her side of the family though.

"If you guys take after your mom you're in trouble," he told them, "I mean, your mom's beautiful. Seriously beautiful. But when boys grow up to be beautiful…can make things a little complicated."

He sighed.

"Of course, that whole pretty boy look is pretty in. Oh, that was a bad pun," he said, making a face, "But yeah. Little early to start worrying about that on my part. Can't help it though."

"Guess not."

Dave turned his head and saw Becky in the doorway.

"I'm doing it," he protested feebly.

"I know you are," she said, coming up from behind him and laying her arms around his shoulders, "They like you."

For an answer he shrugged, although he was secretly pleased that it wasn't just him imagining things.

"Can't wait until they get a little older," he said.

"And why's that?" asked Becky.

One of her hands began idly stroking the side of his jaw. He closed his eyes and leaned back into her.

"They won't cry as much?" he offered.

"They probably will, just about different things."

Together they stared at their children. Quiet fell in the room as Kevin and Eli's eyelids grew heavier.

"I hope I'm a better father than mine," Dave said.

Becky pulled him closer.

"We've been through this. You'll be great."

"I'll try anyway."

She leaned her face forward so that her lips were pressed against the back of his neck. He could feel her smile.

"You're still here aren't you?" she said, "And for what it's worth, I hope I'll be better than my mother."

"You'll be perfect," he assured her.

"Perfect's a lot to live up to."  
"I'm sure we'll manage," he said.

Smiling Becky let go.

"Come on, they're asleep now."

Grasping his wrist she lead him away from the cribs.

"I hope you know that I don't need you to escort me," Dave said.

"You do," Becky said, "I don't want you shutting yourself up in the closet on the way back."

He felt his ears turn red. Giving a small laugh Becky kissed him lightly on the lips.

"Come on," she said, "It's late."


	79. Prompt 94: Labyrinth

**_A/N: _**_I'm going to go on a trip so there won't be a new chapter tomorrow. That's why I decided to post two today. However, since most of you really seemed to like the Horvath idea I decided to do some more of it. This isn't the end of it though. _

_9_4. Labyrinth

If Horvath had been asked if he'd expected the girl to come back he would've said no. After all, she was very young. If anything she would quickly forget about the conversation that she had had with a mirror. Children were always doing things like that, and he hoped that no one would believe her if she mentioned it. He couldn't have them knowing he'd weakened the defenses enough to be able to talk through them.

However, some time after the door creaked again. He could only suppose that it was Halloween again. The child was dressed up in a pink sort of gown with a crown on her head. Horvath had little respect for Dave, but he supposed that he wouldn't let his daughter be seen like that on a daily basis.

She peered around and stepped in. Her crown was slightly askew and she was struggling to adjust it. Very carefully she closed the door behind her, reminiscent of when she had first come in. Then, despite her initial caution, she walked right up to his mirror and tapped on the glass.

"You still in there?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes in irritation.

"Of course."

She looked pleased.

"Knew I didn't imagine you," she said, "I know I imagine a lot of things, but I know I didn't imagine you."

Horvath glared at her.

"Guess how old I am."

"Two."

She made a face at him, obviously not liking his answer. It was a petty thing to do, but he had always been a little petty.

"Higher."

"Two and a half."

The girl put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

"I'm four now," she declared.

"I'd have never guessed."

"You could pretend to say six or somethin'," she said, "Most other people do that."

Horvath found that, despite himself, he was intrigued. Most children wouldn't pick up on things like that.

"Only three years 'til I'm a 'pprentice," she bragged, "an' then I'm gonna need a master. I think they're going to have my Uncle do it, but I don't know."

He frowned. Did Dave have a brother? He couldn't remember. He hadn't really been that interested in the boy's life, other than the time when he had kidnapped the girl. Horvath wondered who the girl's mother had been. Dave had seemed quite in love with the blonde, but they had killed her. Then again, who knew when magic was involved?  
His eyes settled on the girl who had gone back to adjusting her crown. If he squinted he could see a little of the blonde in her. Her eyes were blue after all. The dark hair could come from her father, but she didn't look that much like either of them. That seemed odd to him since he had been expecting some sort of resemblance.

"And I can read spell my name now," she said, "I'm awful young for spelling, don't you think?"

The girl obviously wanted a compliment. He said nothing.

"You're not very chatty," she said, "But that's 'cause you don't believe me. But I can prove it. L-O-R-N-A. There; I spelt it."

"What about your last name?" he asked.

Lorna frowned.

"What?"

"Can you spell your last name?"

She sighed and shook her head.

"I'll be impressed when you can do that."

She looked up and cocked her head. Then she laughed, a sound that was both infuriating and enchanting.

"You're funny mister," she said.

"And there you go, under some sort of bizarre misconception that I am a kind of clown," Horvath said.

Shrugging she smoothed her pink dress.

"Why are you in a mirror anyway?" she asked.

The question was uncomfortable and one that he didn't want to answer.

"None of your business."

Footsteps echoed up the stairs. Lorna's face lit up with anticipation.

"Gotta go," she said, "They're chasin' me. See 'ya!"

Without another word she turned and fled from the room. He didn't take her next comment seriously until she returned in a different costume, at a different age. This time she was wearing a purple dress in what fantasy artists had fondly thought was an Arabian gown. Her hair was pulled back and a purple headband with a jewel was on her forehead. Lorna seemed more excited this time.

"Five," she announced, "I'm five an' I've got playmates."

He didn't have time to get a word in edgewise.

"They're called Kev an' Eli," she said, "I had them last year, but they were just babies. They still can't play much 'cause they're not quite three, but I like them."

"Kev and Eli," he repeated.

"Yup," she said, "They're little, but my parents know their parents, so we're around a lot. Their parents babysit me all the time."

Lorna twirled around in her purple gown.

"Mama and Daddy wouldn't let me wear the turquoise Jasmine outfit," she said, "They said it wasn't age apro-pri-ate."

"I daresay it wasn't."

"You only come out at Halloween?"

It wouldn't do to have her parents find out that she was talking to a trapped inhabitant.

"Yes."

"You don't talk much," laughed Lorna.

"You've said so before."

"Well, you're not. Gonna tell me why you're in the mirror yet mister?"

"No."

"Okay," she grinned.

The girl was perennially cheerful. It was annoying and endearing, and he couldn't figure out which it was more of. She had to leave again but came back the next Halloween. He had been expecting another Disney princess. However, this time she came in in a large white gown that he couldn't quite identify. The sleeves were very poofy and her hair was fluffed out. A silver circlet was on her head.

Before he knew it he'd asked her what movie she was from.

"I'm Sarah from _Labyrinth_," she said, "The movie didn't make much sense, but I kinda liked it."

He was actually disquieted by the girl's aging. Years were passing outside of his mirror and he was still there. Her visits were the only contact he had with the outside of the world. It was depressing in the worst way possible, made worse only by the fact that she seemed to genuinely like him. She leaned forward confidentially.

"I'm an apprentice next year," Lorna said, "And that's gonna be great. I'm all ready to learn magic you know."

"Of course you're not," he snapped, somehow offended by her enthusiasm.

Lorna bristled.

"Well I'm gonna be powerful like my Mama and Daddy," she said, "I'm gonna be in my own fairytale and I'm gonna know what to do like Sarah, more so. I'm not gonna be stupid like Little Red Riding Hood."

"You're-what?" he asked.

"She's a stupid girl who got eaten by a wolf and needed someone to rescue her," said Lorna, putting her hands on her hips "But that's not gonna be me. I'm gonna be smart and rescue myself an' be smart. Just you watch me."

The girl reminded him of someone he had known a long time ago. It hurt a little but made him angry at the same time. Despite their yearly contact he had never forgotten whose daughter she was. He would remember, always remember. It would just be a little harder when he got free and had to kill her. However, he couldn't bring himself to dwell on that just yet.

"I'm sure I will," he said, "I'm sure I will."


	80. Prompt 77: Lust

77. Lust

Ashley didn't have any illusions about why Drake had first started chasing after her. She saw herself in the mirror every morning. While make-up and things had fallen by the wayside in her life, she knew that she was somewhat pretty. All those years of cheerleading, archery, and magic practice had also served to make her fit.

So she hadn't been surprised that he'd noticed. She'd noticed him after all. He had that kind of bad boy look only found in movies. It shone even through the baggy sweaters and dye jobs that Bianca had used to make him fit in. If you squinted you could see how the man before you had once been an enigmatic magician.

Personally she had never been into that sort of thing. Her friend from school Jess had been though. She had actually had a Drake Stone poster in her locker. Jess had been the one to tell her about the mysterious death of the young entertainer. There were hushed whispers of souls being sold and dark magic.

They had been eating at the time. Ashley had nearly choked on her food. Jess was much closer to the truth than was comfortable. Rumors were rumors, and Jess was inclined to believe in conspiracy theories. Still, it didn't help her feel comfortable about her new lodger. If people were willing to believe those sorts of things about him as a normal person, then it didn't bode well for him in private life.

She didn't like the idea of housing an ex-Morganian in the first place. Bianca didn't like it either. However, she had told Ashley that after the Craig incident Ashley was the only one that she could turn too. Jack had children and a magonisi wife. Obviously he couldn't be expected to let Drake around them. So the responsibility would fall to her. The idea that she was being trusted in such an important issue had filled her with pride.

Besides, after getting to know him she hadn't felt that threatened by him. If he had done any evil it was in a sort of bumbling way. Once she had overheard Bianca say that he just needed direction. Someone as tough as Bianca was certainly the one to give that to him. Ashley hoped that she could help a little. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was fight, adnd that could help.

The flirting in the early stages of their relationship had been a little amusing. That viewpoint was a little cruel, but she also saw that it was honest. She hadn't really liked him at that point and Bianca had put her on her guard. Then the flirting had turned into a tentative friendship. She hadn't seen any harm in that. He was three years her senior and she was quite convinced that he wasn't her type.

Like a corrosive acid though, he had worn her down. She blushed to think about her uncertainty and her own attraction. Bianca had acted as a second mother and always advised her to be clever and quick. What she was doing now was stupid and she knew it. Ashley couldn't help it though.

It was at that point in her life that she'd realized just how sheltered she was. Her parents had been away for so long so she'd been sheltering herself. Ashley hadn't much experience with men. The blatant extent of her naivety came to light with the scene on the couch. She hadn't even realized how suggestive that had been. Drake, being who he was, had of course noticed and apparently anticipated it.

The fact that she had made a mess of things shouldn't have been a surprise. That he would be the one to fix things was though. That had made her cautious. Was he still pursuing her because of lust? Or was it something else? She had hoped it was something else. That was all she could do really.

Their relationship had gone in leaps and bounds, her defending him against some of the greatest Merlinians of the age. Then came the day when he'd confessed that he loved her. Ashley had hoped that he'd meant it instead of just lying about it in order to keep her waiting for him. She didn't really believe that of him anymore, but she was never very certain when it came to making decisions about her personal life.

Staying in contact had been hard. She had always hoped that he would continue with their relationship; it was hard. The idea that he might have found someone else did hurt. His attention span wasn't exactly famous for being long. Ashley remained faithful though, having to trust that he wasn't lying to her.

Coming back when he did, when he said he would, was the best thing that he could've done. Hitting him with the baseball bat had been jumping the gun, but it was alright in a way. After all, who came through the window? It was also a good way to get rid of the stress. Feeling his arms around her and his kisses had made it all melt away though. He might be an asshole, but he was also a really good kisser.

That had been three years ago though. After that he had been everywhere since then. Russia, Germany, Canada, and Tahiti. In that time Ashley had stayed in New York. She was bound there after all. Her college was there, and she hoped vainly that her family might come back one day. That hope became more slender with every passing year. It wasn't in her nature to give up on people though.

No matter where he went though, he came back for her. He was there at her graduation and kept in contact. He was the one she told when she got her first job writing for a magazine. Each time he came back with a few more scars and a stronger glint in his eye. He was still an asshole. She wasn't sure if she'd love him anymore if he was anything but. He probably wouldn't even be Drake anymore.

Now she was twenty-five. A yearning for some sort of stability came into her life. Nothing around her was stable except her position as a Master and a journalist. She'd always wanted people to stay, but it was sort of Drake's job to be around. That didn't mean that he didn't want to stay, and it didn't mean that she accepted the fact that he could never be permanently around. It just meant that things were a certain way.

Eight years was a long time to be involved in this sort of strange dance though. She missed simpler times. He started to notice this too. Drake had been back on one of his shore leaves, one that would last a surprising three months, and he'd asked her if everything was okay. Of course Ashley had lied, but Merlinians were awful liars. Drake had narrowed his eyes and watched carefully her carefully.

The next day he had asked her if everything was okay. Choking back tears she had explained what she was feeling. Drake had looked relieved at first.

"I thought that…" he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I thought that maybe…this has been hard an' stuff so I was kinda figurin' that you might not want to…do this anymore. We've done this for a while but…"

"Don't be stupid. I'm not breaking up with you," she had said, shaking her idea at the thought, "I'm **never** going to do that."

He smirked at her and then frowned. It appeared that he was thinking hard about something. Drake always got that expression when he was thinking.

"Marry me," he said suddenly.

She couldn't have heard him right.

"What?"

"Today. The courthouse. We don't have a waiting period in New York. We can grab on o' them Chrysler peps an' do it quick. Whaddaya say?"

Ashley could only stare at him. Everything that she had ever thought about the two of them, and ever thought that she would went through her mind. His words were the bottom line of a very long page. When she thought about it she realized that there was only one way she could respond to that.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Drake had grabbed her hand and pulled her out onto the street. Neither of them had even changed clothes. There were no rings, Drake had went out and bought some quick ones. They were just cheap There had been a momentary stop at the Chrysler building. Drake had called ahead while she had snagged Julian. The eighteen-year old was confused and lost, but he trusted her. He could also be counted on not to blurt this out everywhere. They'd talk about this impromptu wedding with the stuffy shirts, Bianca namely, later.

They were squeezed in between a trial for theft and the other for obscene acts in public. It was sort of appropriate in that respect. Julian stood dumbfounded throughout the whole thing. Towards the end he had a curious smile on his face though. Ashley figured that it was a good sign for their relationship.

The wedding kiss had been a French one. That had probably ended up scarring the rather impressionable Julian a bit. She had intended for it to be chaste, but Drake had other plans. Ashley was confident enough by this point to know that he loved her. Drake wouldn't keep coming back for a girl whom he didn't love. However, she could tell that one thing hadn't changed; there was still some lust there.


	81. Prompt 66: Cave

66. Cave

"So you're sure it's a dragon?"

Dave sighed. His hand clutched his cell phone a little tighter, glad that the reception was working. Sighing again he looked around the sight of his first project as a physicist. He'd been called in recently to discuss repairs, but the magical part of his brain had figured out that something more sinister than vandalism was afoot.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he said, his eyes scanning where train tracks had been pulled up, "I saw the scorch marks when I inspected the damage on the tunnel. I think it's down one of the side caves."

"Alright," said Craig on the other end of the phone, "You going to go after it now?"

"I have to," Dave said, "I mean, it's not like it's something that can wait until morning. I'd like to get this done immediately. It's a young one by the looks of it, but it's obviously not afraid of people anymore. We're lucky it hasn't eaten anyone yet."

"I see your point," Craig said, "I'll see who we've got in the area."

"Thanks," said Dave, "I'd rather not handle a dragon alone. They can be unpredictable at the best of times. Is Balthazar nearby?"

"Nah, he's probably picking Lorna up from school right now."

"Right, right," Dave replied, checking his watch.

It was hard to believe that Lorna was already school-age. The girl who had come in as an underweight baby was now in kindergarten. His own children would be joining her soon.

"Veronica?"

"With the twins in Central Park. They're doing something with the Dryads. They're nowhere near your stretch of the woods. No pun intended."

"No chance that Ashley would-?"

"She's writing an article on trans fats in salads."

"Really?" asked Dave.

"Yeah, apparently it's in this spray they use on the lettuce," Craig said, "I keep tellin' Vera that she shouldn't eat that stuff, it'd poison us all."

Laughing Dave thought about Vera. She was Craig's wife, a fastidious health nut that he had married that year. She had been married once before and had a daughter, Samantha, by that marriage. She was a year or two older than Lorna, and he'd seen her playing with her a few times. He'd even seen her with Eli and Kevin come to think about it.

"Wait, we've got a guy about a block away."

"That's perfect."

"Um…not really."

Dave sighed.

"It's Drake, isn't it?"

"…yeah. You want me to wait until Balthazar gets back?"

"No, no. I shouldn't just leave this for a few hours," said Dave, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Okay, just um, just get him down here. I'd like to get this done as soon as possible."

"I'll contact him."

"Thanks."

Snapping his cell phone shut he waited. A few minutes later Drake came trudging down the tunnels. He waved cheerfully at Dave.

"Can you believe the bleedin' security around 'ere?" he asked, "I mean, I once got into an embassy easier."

"New York," Dave shrugged dismissively, "So Craig give you the details?"

"Yup Boy Wonder," said Drake, cracking his knuckles, "Been getting' kinda quiet around here lately. Could be fun."

"Don't call me that."

"Call you what?"

"Boy wonder," said Dave, rolling his eyes, "I'm nearly thirty."

"You're twenty-eight, same as me," Drake said, "So how old do 'ya think the level of soot in the fire places this thing?"

"Around two years," answered Dave, wishing that he'd been willing to wait for Balthazar.

"Ah hell. They're cranky when they're that age."

"Exactly," said Dave, "So if we could just tread gently around this I think it would be a good idea."

"Whatever," said Drake, "You wanna go first, or should I?"

He smirked at the end of the sentence. Dave shook his head and went into the side cave first. It was hard to disassociate the cocky man following him from the one who had tried to kill him in the bathroom nearly nine years prior. He knew that it was probably insanely nitpicky, Drake had done good work since then. Not to mention it had been such a long time ago. Still, it did raise some bile in his throat whenever he saw him.

As he travelled deeper into the cave his feet splashed in soot stained water. It was dark but he was loathe to summon up some light and give their position away. The air was getting warmer too, no doubt because of the dragon's breath. They were definitely getting close. He motioned to Drake and peered cautiously around the next turn in the cave.

The dragon was scrabbling over a pile of train tracks and a mountain of trash. Dave had thought that it had been a territorial urge to get rid of the tracks at first. Of course, it wasn't like there was any gold in the area. It was probably just looking for the first shiny thing that it could get its claws on. It was kind of sad in that respect.

However, dragons couldn't be tolerated in urban areas. Suburbs were bad enough, but cities were disastrous. Once they had been hatched somewhere they were impossible to relocate. They regarded it as their territory. The only alternative was to kill them humanely before they started eating people. Normally dragons didn't eat humans, but they were the only abundant meat supply in urban areas.

Slowly Dave started to summon an icicle barrage in his hands. He nodded at Drake to do the same. Drake took note of the spell Dave was doing and started to copy it. They were fighting in close quarters, so it would be best to finish things off quickly. Preferably he'd have Excalibur with him, but he hadn't expected to need it when he'd run out of the house that morning. Swords were the traditional method after all.

In such a circumstances ice would do the best. Fire did well only in large amounts, like it had on Sun-Lok during the first year of his apprenticeship. There was too much trash around now to do that. Dave didn't want to have to control a fire if it ignited. It might spread too quickly even for him to intervene successfully.

Just as he got ready to blast it the dragon reared its head. With an angry bellow it sucked in some air. Dave let go of his spell just as it started to spew fire. The fire froze, enraging the dragon. With a swipe of its claw Dave was knocked out of the alcove and into the wider cavern. His head was knocked on the floor but he got to his feet quickly.

Even though it was only two the dragon was twice as tall as him. Its claws were each half the size of his arm. They swiped at him and he ducked, putting up a shield as it let out another breath of fire. Dave could see the rocks behind him turn red hot and start to melt. Even the air inside the shield was getting warmer.

"Oi!"

The dragon reared its head and was smashed in the face with an icicle barrage. Drake ducked to avoid the dragon's tail, which swung around wildly. Ice formed around its mouth and nostrils. Confused the dragon started to smash itself up against the cavern walls in an attempt to rid itself of its icy muzzle.

Dropping his shield Dave ran in closer, trying to keep his balance over the slippery garbage. He summoned up some more ice in his hands, making sure that they were fully coated with the spell. Taking great care to avoid the dragon's flailing limbs he got up to his chest. Laying his hands where the heart should be he shot ice through direct contact. The cold shot out of his hands and directly into the dragon's heart.

The dragon let out a great hiss before falling backwards. Dave gave a small smile in relief; it had been quick at least.

"Nice," said Drake.

He looked over at the other man, who still hadn't left the alcove. He was giving him a thumbs up and that same smirk. Dave sighed and shook his head. It was probably impossible for him to forget the scene in the bathroom. However, it was still conceivable that he could at least work with him. Dave had every confidence that he wouldn't be stabbed in the back by him.

Drake held out a hand to help him up. Dave accepted it. As he did he couldn't help but notice that Drake had an extra ring on his finger. This one wasn't a decoy though. It was just a simple band, probably a little on the cheap side. He registered it briefly before shrugging it off. It probably wasn't important.


	82. Prompt 48: Pig

48. Pig

"Lorna's starting to ask if she can go to Disneyland," Veronica said, plumping up a pillow before drawing the covers, "She's made a few 'hints' that she would like to go sometime this year."

"Of course she would."

Veronica quirked an eyebrow at her husband.

"Something wrong with Disneyland?"

"Not really," he said, leaning back onto his pillow, "I knew the guy. He was…nice I suppose."

"You knew Walt Disney?"

"He was a Merlinian. Not a powerful one mind you, but certainly a creative one," said Balthazar, "He was a good guy."

"Good meaning…?"

"He helped me track down some harpies that were hiding under the park foundations once. I did most of the fighting but he gave me the blue prints."

"That explains some things," Veronica said, "Especially the Mickey Mouse short with the buckets and brooms."

Balthazar flushed and Veronica giggled.

"That was based on a poem."

"Of course it was, of course it was," she said, "Because that room in the short looked an awful lot like the practice room in the Keep and I'm sure that the poem gave **exhaustive **description of the room."

"Veronica-"

"Don't be that way," laughed Veronica, "From the way I heard it from the staff you were wearing that red robe too."

"It was a coat, not a robe. And I was very young. We all make mistakes when we first start learning about magic."

"You were what, thirteen?"

"Yes, but-"

"So you'd been training for five years-"

"Moving on," Balthazar said, "Disney is full of screaming kids and mothers who push their way through the crowds with strollers. There are people everywhere, and you know how much I hate big crowds."

Even though he had aged eight years, his intense dislike of too many people still stood. She was glad that they lived on a quiet street.

"Most kids should go though," said Veronica, tapping his nose, "You know how much she loves the princess collection."

"How can I not when you make those outfits for her every year? We should buy stock in Simplicity," grumbled Balthazar, "At least she hasn't asked you to dress her up as Little Red Riding Hood yet."

Sighing Veronica snuggled closer and laid an arm over his chest.

"Love, you have very strange ideas. What is it exactly that you have against Little Red Riding Hood?"

"It encourages children to be stupid."

"Lorna is many things, but she is definitely not stupid," Veronica said, "I caught her flipping through our Incantus yesterday."

"I never said she was stupid. You're putting words in my mouth," said Balthazar, "But she was going through the Incantus? I thought most of the words would be too big for her."

"They are, but it doesn't change the facts," Veronica said, "When I was her age my mother was teaching me how to let blood and apply leeches."

"I hope you're not suggesting we teach her **that**."

"Don't be silly," Veronica answered, rolling her eyes, "I'm just saying that she comes from a long line of inquisitive minds. Not to mention she's surrounded by magic on a daily basis. She's eager to get her feet wet."

He remained silent, staring at the ceiling. One of his hands was placed on the back of Veronica's neck, stroking her hair almost idly.

"She's got another year before she's apprentice age," said Balthazar.

"I'm not saying we start her early," Veronica said, "Now you're putting words in **my **mouth."

The corners of his mouth turned up briefly.

"She's growing up quickly, isn't she?"

"Lorna's only six," Veronica protested.

"Before you know it she'll be going off to college and fighting monsters," said Balthazar, "Seems like it was yesterday when she was small enough to cradle in my arms showing no signs for magical aptitude."

Veronica said nothing. She hadn't told him about the time that fairies had blessed Lorna in the woods. It had seemed unnecessary, and the silver starburst mark had faded almost immediately from her forehead. For a long time she had worried if it was nothing, just a fairy that had taken a shine to Lorna and decided to kiss her. It could mean nothing. Then again, it could mean everything.

For some reason she couldn't bring herself to tell Balthazar about it. She wasn't sure why. Part of her thought it was because she didn't want to make him worry. It had been several years after the fact anyway. Something else felt like it would be difficult to speak of it to someone who hadn't been there. Maybe that was why faeries had such a mixed account in the Incantus.

"Anyway, at least I know I can trust Dave when the time comes for her to be an apprentice," said Balthazar, "He wouldn't let anything happen to her. I have a feeling she's going to start experimenting with the buckets and brooms rather fast."

"Let's just hope there's no electricity around."

"We can hope."

"Or people who are going to turn it into an animated short."

"Veronica," he groaned.

Laughing she placed a kiss in the hollow of his throat.

"You need to loosen up a little," she said, letting her hand rest on the side of his face,"You've always been very tense my love."

"You think this is tight? Ha. You should've seen me twenty years ago," replied Balthazar.

"Unfortunately I couldn't," smiled Veronica, "But what do you say about Lorna and Disney?"

"Fine, we'll do it soon," Balthazar said, "Just don't expect me to wear those Mickey Mouse ears. Or the big pointy blue hat with Mickey Mouse ears. Or any form of Disney paraphernalia, period."

The door creaked open. Both of them looked up. Lorna was standing outside the door, standing in bare feet. One hand was up to her face so that she could suck on her thumb. The other hand clasped a stuffed pig tightly. If she recalled correctly the stuffed animal had been named Sir Boars in some sort of strange parody of the Arthurian legend. It stared with its dark button eyes while Lorna looked on with her big blue ones.

"It's late honey," Veronica said, "Something wrong?"

"No," she said, "But my night light broke. And…"

She looked embarrassed.

"What is it?" asked Balthazar.

"The shadows are moving," she said.

Balthazar and Veronica shared a look.

"Lorna," said Balthazar, "I'm going to explain this. Your room is fully warded. Nothing can get in there, no Morganians, or boogeymen, or ghosts, or anything. Your mother and I did it ourselves before you were even born and we patch them up every year and test them so we're sure they're in full working order."

Lorna stared with big eyes. She nodded as though she understood, although Veronica suspected that she had understood less than half of that.

"But if you want to sleep with us tonight," continued Balthazar, "Then it's perfectly okay."

Nodding once Lorna scrambled up onto the bed. She squeezed herself between her parents and snuggled into the sheets. Veronica put one arm over her protectively. She shared a look with her husband. No, Lorna wasn't anywhere near grown up yet. Not as long as she looked to her parents for this form of protection.


	83. Prompt 46: Knights

_**A/N: **__I hope this chapter isn't too confusing. Just read it all the way through, and then it'll make more sense. _

46. Knights

A large castle loomed over all. Inside of it sat a great monster with terrible black eyes that looked over the whole area. A blue lake was spread out over the ground, its edges perfectly square. A bridge almost as tall as the castle had been constructed over it. Around this was a great forest consisting of pine and birch trees in pots.

On the other side of the bridge three sorcerers were ready to lay siege to it. Two of them were men, dressed in shining armor. The two of them had capes of different colors, tied below their chins. The other was a woman with pale skin and dark hair. A necklace consisting mostly of pearls was around her throat, obscured mostly by a dark cloak. One of the male sorcerers coughed and looked down onto a scrap of parchment that had been scrawled on.

"Since time 'fore time the great monster hath owned this land and terrorized the innocent villagers, de-man-ding that each annum-" he read.

"What's an annum?" interrupted the other sorcerer, "And why are you talking like that."

The one who was reading looked irritated.

"It means year," the girl supplied.

"Okay."

"And everyone talked like that," she said.

"I've never heard anyone talk like that," frowned the boy.

"Just because you haven't heard it doesn't mean it ain't so."

"Okay, okay."

"Can I continue?" asked the reader.

"Go ahead."

"Ahem. De-man-ding that each annum a sac-ri-fice be made to it of a maiden from the village-"

"What's that last bit mean?"

The reader looked up in irritation. The girl slapped her face with her palm and started to wonder what time it was.

"You should know what it means Horvath," he said.

"Well I don't."

"You should though stupid," said the reader, "You helped me write it, remember?"

"I just said I didn't! An' she did, not me."

"He's right," said the girl.

"Alright, sorry Horvath."

"Say you're really sorry."

"No."

"Well then I'm not accpetin' the apology," said Horvath.

"Well I'm not apologizin' that way," snapped the reader, "How do 'ya like that?"

"No matter to me."

The girl stamped her foot. They both turned to her.

"Just say you're really sorry!"

"You always take his side," complained the reader.

"You know that's not true," she said, stamping her foot again, "Now apologize so we can get on with it! I wanna go fight the evil beast, don't you?"

Looking sour the reader turned towards the other man.

"I'm really sorry."

"Say with a cherry on top."

"It's good enough!" the girl snapped.

"Okay, okay. Now what does that all mean?"

"It means it's been eatin' girls," explained the reader.

"Ew."

"Can I finish!" demanded the reader.

"Of course you can Balthazar," coughed Horvath, "Go on."

"-and it is our duty to vah…vah…"

"Van-quish," piped up the girl.

"Van-quish it," said Balthazar, "Thanks Veronica."

"No problem."

"Now then," he said, drawing his sword from his belt and pointing it forward, "Across the bridge of terrible death we must go and-"

"I don't want to go across the bridge of terrible death," said Horvath, "Sounds like an awful idea."

"We're never going to get anythin' done if you're scared of the bridge of terrible death," snapped Balthazar.

"Okay, calm down," Veronica interjected, "It won't be bad. You're a brave sorcerer."

"No I'm not. I'm scum."

"You're a brave sorcerer **right now**," said Veronica, "You're scum later, remember?"

"Fine."

"Now across-"

"I wanna lead."

There was a long pause. Veronica wondered if maybe she should just go across the bridge and kill the monster herself. It would certainly save a lot of time.

"You led last time!"

"Did not Balthazar!"

"Did too!"

"You did," Veronica said, tugging on her cloak, "Now can we just go across the bridge of terrible death and van-quish the terrible beast?"

Horvath and Balthazar glared at each other.

"Fine," said Balthazar.

"Fine," agreed Horvath, "But have you noticed how there's lots of terrible stuff around here? Somethin' in the water you think?"

"Probably. The water's too blue," said Veronica, "Now Balthazar, go lead us across the bridge of terrible death."

"Of course," he said proudly.

Head held high he walked across the bridge. The other two followed him. They crossed inches at a time, each step a cautious one. Every few seconds they would put a finger to their lips and shushed the person behind them. It wouldn't do for the terrible beast to know that they were here. However, when they were almost across the bridge Balthazar looked up in horror. The terrible black eyes were fixed on them.

"Hah! Yon monster shall not have the first blow!" he cried.

With great speed he leapt at the monster. The beast stared at him, utterly implacable. As soon as he stepped onto the castle the very stones shifted under his feet. The castle began to crumble and fall. Veronica and Horvath rushed forward to help but they only hastened the process.

The stones collapsed with a mighty crash. It brought down the bridge and the forest as well. The three sorcerers were buried beneath the rubble. Soon a hand popped out and Horvath pulled himself out. He looked around in near panic at the ruins of the bridge and castle. Then he called out;

"Balthazar! Veronica!"

More hands showed themselves as his comrades pulled themselves up. Balthazar's cape had disappeared and Veronica's hood had come off. In her arms was the corpse of the great beast, its eyes still staring with no emotion. They all looked at each other, trying to figure out what had happened. Finally Veronica said;

"I guess we killed it."

Footsteps were heard. They all looked to their left in a panic as the door opened.

"What happened here!"

Veronica/Lorna looked guiltily over at Balthazar/Kevin. Horvath/Eli started to try and bury himself underneath the boxes again.

"How many times," growled the real Balthazar, "do I have to tell you not to build things out of the boxes? You know those are old, don't you?"

They nodded.

"You could've gotten injured," sighed Balthazar, pulling Lorna out of the boxes, "What were you doing anyway?"

Lorna looked at the terrible beast/Sir Boars. She shrugged, trying to affect a nonchalant look so her father wouldn't get angry.

"Playin' knights."

His eyes scanned the room. Balthazar's eyes rested on the capes and tinfoil armor that Dave's sons were wearing. It crinkled under his touch as he helped them up. They all had sticks which he assumed they were planning on using for swords. Lorna's cape and necklace were a little suspicious though.

"Uh huh," he said, "But you're all cleaning this up I'll have you know."

The children groaned.

"Bet you knights didn't have to clean up castles they destroyed," mumbled Eli.


	84. Prompt 58: Popcorn

58. Popcorn

"Door's unlocked!" Dave called.

He grabbed a handful of popcorn and munched on it. There was a can of _Mountain Dew Code Red_ there as well. Popcorn had always been his favorite snack while he was working on something technological, and he'd always figured that the beverage went well with it. He was currently in the downstairs den of their new house fixing the computer; one of the kids had pulled a cord which had caused a good deal of damage.

Dave thought of it as 'one of the kids' because they had gotten conflicting reports. Eli said it was Kevin and Kevin said it was Eli. Becky had banished them to their rooms until one of them owned up. It had been two hours so far. Dave was actually glad that he'd been raised as an only child if this was what it meant to have siblings.

He also thought of it as 'the new house' although it was quite old. Becky had grown up in the house and it had been left to her by her grandmother. When the boys got old enough to need some room to run around in she had asked if they could move in. A few wings of the house were closed off to make it seem smaller, but it had worked pretty well so far.

As for himself he wasn't used to living so far away from the city. It wasn't more than a fifteen minute drive, but still. There wasn't a lot of places to hide when something got wrong, shown by the fact that Eli and Kevin hadn't managed to sneak out of their rooms. He figured that the scrabbling at the door handle meant that Becky had wrangled a confession out of them though.

Surprisingly it wasn't his wife coming down the stairs. Balthazar gave a small wave before flopping down into one of the armchairs that Dave had levitated downstairs. His old Master did come around to the house occasionally, but he usually phoned ahead. The visit was completely unexpected.

"Balthazar?" he asked, immediately stopping what he was doing, "What brings you down to this neck of the woods?"

He gave a half-shrug.

"I'm not going to say that I was in the neighborhood, because I'm not a good liar. I don't like the traffic either."

Dave laughed uneasily.

"Is there some sort of emergency?"

"Not exactly," replied Balthazar.

For a while more Dave waited for Balthazar to elaborate. He didn't immediately though, just started to drum his fingers against the arm rest of his chair.

"You know, I always hoped I wouldn't have a father-to-father conversation with you," said Balthazar at last, "I always thought it would be bizarre, and I'm probably right. But it appears that we don't always get what we want."

"Meaning?"

"It's about that time I helped baby-sit your sons last week."

Dave winced. This didn't sound like it was going to be good.

"I wanted to know if you were aware of a certain game that our kids play," said Balthazar, leaning forward and clasping his hands.

Swiveling around in his chair Dave felt like he was twenty again and having to answer for some magical idiocy. This was Balthazar in full-on Master mode. A small twitch in his brain said that no, it was father mode. Whether as a parent he had adopted aspects of his style as a Master or it was the other way around, Dave didn't know.

"They uh, they play lots of games," he said, scratching his head, "You can be talking about any of them."

"This one's different," said Balthazar, "You think I'd be here if I came across them playing tag?"

"Guess not."

"Although I should, because tag has its origins in a gladiatorial game that Vikings made the children of conquered villages play," said Balthazar, "With knives."

Dave sighed.

"How come every time I say something that sounds perfectly innocent you twist it back at me?"

"There are few things in this world that are perfectly innocent," said Balthazar, dismissing Dave's words, "But as I was saying, you'd know this if you saw it. Perhaps they told you they were playing knights?"

Memory flickered.

"I think so," Dave said slowly, "They were trying to use Excalibur as a prop. Dangerous, yes, but since they didn't know what it was-"

"I bet it was Lorna's idea," Balthazar said glumly.

"At least she's not dating age."

Balthazar gave him a sour look as if to express what he thought of **that**.

"Look, it didn't seem like they were doing any harm," said Dave, taking a sip of his drink, "I thought it was silly to be honest, but they're still really young. What happened at your place? Did they break something?"

"No," Balthazar said, "No, nothing like that. They did make a mess, but nothing that wasn't easy to clean up. I should've mentioned this to you when you came for Kevin and Eli, but I was away."

Balthazar leaned back into his chair.

"What they were playing, and I am very sure of this, are scenes from Merlinian history. Lorna must've been into the Incantus again-" he said.

"She's getting into the Incantus?"

"I've tried holding her down. It's too difficult for words," sighed Balthazar, "You're going to have one prepared apprentice next year, I can tell you that much."

"What's the problem then?" said Dave, grasping another hand of popcorn.

"Like I said," said Balthazar, "They've been reenacting scenes Merlinian history. More specifically scenes that concern Merlin's three apprentices."

Dave nearly choked on his popcorn. He manage to swallow though and burst out laughing. Balthazar watched him disapprovingly.

"I hardly find this funny."

"I think it's hilarious," gasped Dave, wiping tears from his eyes, "Balthazar, I can't believe you can't see just how funny-"

"Apparently they play another game too," interrupted Balthazar, "This one's called _Prime Merlinian_."

The color drained from his face.

"No," Dave said.

"Yes," Balthazar said, looking pleased with himself, "Kevin and Eli fight quite bitterly over who gets to play you. Craig's daughter Samantha is Becky."

"Oh no."

"Get it now, do you?" asked Balthazar.

"Yeah…but who does Lorna play?"

"Lorna always plays her mother, something to do with her hair. It sounds like that's the role she always wants anyway," Balthazar said, "Although I gather she doesn't like _Prime Merlinian_ that much. They designate a box the Grimhold and she gets shut up in it most of the time. Although I do gather they play some of our other escapades."

Dave rubbed his temples.

"How do you know this?"

Shrugging Balthazar waved his hand.

"Apparently Kevin is quite frightened of me. Eli too. They wouldn't spill in front of Lorna, but they did later."

Groaning Dave leaned back in his chair. Ruffling his hand through his hair he sighed deeply.

"Figures it would be my kids," said Dave.

"Oh, I can be very scary," Balthazar said, "But, if it helps, they're not the only ones. I mentioned this to Bianca and they've been playing games like this since before she was a child."

"Well, I wasn't a character in them."

"I was," said Balthazar, "And I suppose it's quite like George Washington finding out that kids are playing Valley Forge. They don't really understand it, nor should they. They're children and history is simpler for them."

Balthazar shifted in his chair.

"I just wanted to point out that you're now a living legend Dave," he said, "If you didn't know that already then I suppose you should. You're some sort of hero to your sons, and to my daughter and her friend to some extent. You will be to generations of children, as well as Merlinians everywhere."

He had never really thought about any of it in that context before. Feeling odd he looked over at Balthazar who was smirking.

"If it's any consolation," he said, "I hear that Kevin does a remarkable impression of your scream."


	85. Prompt 99: Order

99. Order

Ashley yawned and looked at the clock. It was definitely time to get up if she didn't want to be late for the shopping trip she'd arranged with Becky. She had finally gotten a day off and from what she heard the young Stutlers were with their father. When she tried to get up though the arm that had been draped lazily over her waist suddenly pulled taught. She stumbled over herself and was pulled back into the bed.

"Let go," she said.

"Nah," Drake replied, "You're warm. It's bleedin' cold. Why do you even have heat if you're not going to use it?"

"I'm using it," she said, squirming, "And I'm going to be late unless you let go."

"Hmmm," he said, burying his face in her hair, "No can do luv."

"Yes you can," snapped Ashley, "You just unwrap your fingers and-"

"Nah."

"You're acting like a child."

He cocked his head.

"I'm nearly thirty," he said, "An' that's long past when I'm considered a child. As I think you well know."

The grin he gave her made her blush. He laughed and pulled her closer.

"Okay, fine, whatever. But I do need to get out of bed now," Ashley said, "I've got places to go, people to see, that kind of thing."

Drake shifted his head so she could see him stick out his lower lip.

"Now why would you do somethin' like that?"

"Because I have a life."

"Completely unnecessary if you ask me."

"Well no one is," she said, trying to disentangle herself without hurting him, "Now people are going to ask questions if I'm not there. If I have to tell them it's because my stupid husband won't let go of me for two minutes-"

"Becky'll understand," interrupted Drake, "We're newlyweds, you an' I. She was too at one point."

He grimaced.

"Hard when you factor in the Boy Wonder though."

"I am sooo not interested in that facet of Dave and Becky's marriage," Ashley said in disgust.

"Neither am I. I'm just sayin'-"

"Then please stop."

"You wound me."

"No," Ashley said, "But I'm going to if you don't let go soon."

"You wouldn't-"

She hit him in the chest, making him let go. Ashley quickly got up and grinned at his shocked expression.

"I warned you," she said.

Narrowing his arms Drake grabbed her arm. She was pulled in again. They struggled for a few minutes, her punching and him trying to dodge. In the end she hit him with a pillow and pulled a sheet over his head. Blindly he flailed around for a minute. This minute gave her the time she needed to put him in a headlock.

"Say uncle," she said.

"Don't have one."

Her grip increased.

"Say it!"

"Fine, whatever. Uncle, aunt, my third cousin once removed."

Ashley let go and got up. She gave him a cocky smile as she put a bathrobe over her pajamas. Next went on her watch, one of the first things she always did after getting up.

"That'll teach you to mess with me."

"Hmph," said Drake, pulling the sheet over his head so that his face was visible.

His hair was mussed adorably. Ashley couldn't resist giving him a kiss on the forehead. She could afford to be lenient. She'd won after all.

"So don't try it again," she said.

The doorbell rang. Frowning Ashley looked at her watch. The clock by the bed and the time on her watch were an hour apart. She looked at Drake suspiciously.

"Did you mess with the clock?"

"Wasn't tryin' to," he said, "Just wanted to listen to the radio on it yesterday-"

Rolling her eyes in disgust she hurried towards the door. She quickly checked who it was. Sure enough it was Becky. Ashley opened the door, preparing an excuse in her mind.

"Wow," said Becky, "Someone had a busy night."

She knew her face must've been red from her 'fight' and her hair must've been a mess. Before she could recite her excuse Drake came from the next room.

"I think you might've cut my lip," he complained, wandering from the bedroom without his shirt, "Next time go easy on me."

There was a very long, very awkward silence.

"I can wait a few minutes," Becky said, "Outside. In the car. Yeah."

Without another word she turned and hurried out of the apartment. Ashley slapped her face with her palm but decided to refrain from getting into an argument until after she got home. Quickly she got dressed and brushed her teeth. Due to the time she figured that she'd skip breakfast and persuade Becky into getting an early lunch. Kissing her husband briefly she hurried downstairs.

Still feeling awkward she slipped into the passenger seat. Becky was staring straight ahead, blinking from time to time.

"Uh, about that-" started Ashley.

Becky raised a hand.

"Ashley, don't get me wrong. I'm sorry I didn't call or something."

"Well, we did set a time but my clock was running late-"

"Let's not try to dissect it," said Becky, "But, and I'm saying this as one friend to another, I would have it be known in every polite way that I have absolutely no interest in that facet of your relationship with Drake. That sort of thing is your own business and I'm so, **so** sorry that I embarrassed you like that."

She squeezed her eyes shut as though trying not to visualize anything. The irony of her comment in contrast to what Ashley said to Drake was overwhelming.

"Just, um, I know you're not stupid or anything," continued Becky, "but be sure to be…responsible and…and um-"

Eager to avoid having her friend explain to her about preventative measures she blurted;

"You don't understand! We're married!"

Becky's eyes flew open. Ashley felt like smacking herself again. One of these days she needed to learn to quit while she was ahead.

"Sorry," Becky said, "I don't think…did you say you were married?"

Ashley nodded mutely.

"When did this happen?" exclaimed Becky.

"About two weeks ago," said Ashley wincing.

"Con…congratulations. You didn't invite me though," said Becky, apparently recovering, "That's remiss."

She didn't feel up to grinning at the joke.

"It was a bit of an elopement," Ashley said, "Just sort of…went down to the courthouse…"

"And you'd been planning this for how long?"

"About two seconds before we headed down there."

There was a pause.

"Right," she said, "I guess I should've noticed the ring, but everyone around here wears so many rings."

"Yeah, 's why I figured no one mentioned it," Ashley said.

"So, who else knows?" asked Becky.

"Julian," she said.

Becky nodded. There was another silence. Suddenly Ashley realized that Becky was waiting for her to go on.

"That's all."

"That's **all**?"

"We needed a witness is all," shrugged Ashley nervously.

Becky rubbed her temples.

"Bianca know?"

She shook her head. The thought of her mother figure, Prime, and former Master's face when she heard about it was more than she'd feel up to.

"Okay," Becky said, starting the car's engine, "Okay. I imagine you're at least planning on announcing this formally sometime though."

"Well yeah…"

"I can tell you one thing though," said Becky, giving a wry grin, "It's sure going to shake up the order of things 'round here."


	86. Prompt 93: Taste

_**A/N: **__Okay, so yes, there are two chapters up today. I'm hoping to have the story done before I go on a trip in March, so some days will have more than one chapter on the updates._

93. Taste

That morning promised to be a busy one. Bianca had her hands full filing the tax and personality paperwork for the big office down in Virginia. That was another headache, but for a different time. On top of that she had two appointments that she had scheduled for that morning. She hadn't wanted too, but they were things that needed to be taken care of immediately.

A knock on her door rang out. Without looking up she called;

"You can come in."

Ashley did so, stepping lightly into Bianca's office. She looked up at her former apprentice briefly. The girl had been apprenticed to the former Prime when she was twelve if she remembered correctly. It was quite late in the game to happen, but they were all making accommodations these days with life becoming more like an Incantus.

Justin, being the idiot that he was, had all but forgotten about her. Bianca had stepped in to make sure that a perfectly good sorceress wasn't wasted. There had never been any sort of official apprenticing ceremony, not for the two of them. They might've though, for the fact that she did end up becoming the girl's master.

"You can sit down," she said.

She heard shuffling movements. This meant, of course, that she knew Ashley quite well. She had been responsible for her until she was twenty, when she became a master herself. That never quite took away the protective edge to Bianca's feelings, but it did mean something. Ashley had graduated from apprentice to subordinate. So when her eyes were lowered in that fashion Bianca sighed but didn't look up from the paperwork she was doing.

"What did you do?" she asked.

Ashley jumped just as she prepared to get into a seat.

"What do you mean?"

"You did something," Bianca said, signing her name and levitating the sheet to her out tray, "Now what was it?"

"You called me in here for something," said Ashley, recovering with impressive speed, "So I think that we should-"

"No," interrupted Bianca, "We're going to talk about this thing that you did first. We'll get onto my business afterwards."

"You automatically assume-"

"I assume nothing. I know; your face is telling me everything," said Bianca.

She finally looked up at her. Ashley squirmed a little. Bianca had often been told that she could turn a basilisk to stone with her 'Look'. She had treasured that comment. A Prime wasn't supposed to be soft and cuddly, most sorcerers and sorceresses couldn't be either if they wanted to survive their apprenticeship.

"So…you mean you know what I did or you know that I did something wrong?" asked Ashley hopefully.

"The former," said Bianca, putting her pen down, "I believe we once had a conversation on how it was impossible to read minds."

"Yeah, of course," sighed Ashley.

For a moment the girl lowered her eyes again and sighed. It was odd to think of her as 'the girl' when she was twenty-five. She figured it was a master thing. Balthazar probably thought of Dave as 'the boy' and he was married with two children who were growing like weeds.

"Out with it," said Bianca.

"Igotmarried," Ashley said in a rush.

Bianca didn't bat an eye, but inside of her head she saw red.

"When?"

Ashley furrowed her brow.

"I said I got married."

"Yes, I heard you," answered Bianca, "And then I asked you when."

There was a pause.

"I asked you a question."

"Two weeks ago," said Ashley, "And we did it in a courthouse. You don't have to apply for a wedding license and um…"

She trailed off. Slowly Bianca blinked and rubbed her temples. Then she said;

"If you'll excuse me for a minute?"

Without waiting for an answer Bianca went into a side room. There was a pillow on the sofa there that she picked up and screamed into until she ran out of breath. Then she returned to the office, taking very deep breaths. Ashley was staring at her like she expected to go nuclear, which was a little funny if she didn't look so scared. So Bianca said;

"I knew."

Ashley sucked in a breath.

"You **knew**?"

"Well, for about a week," Bianca said vaguely, thinking about how knowing something and hearing it firsthand were two very different things, "Julian is a very dear boy but like you he seems quite terrified of me. I have to admit he was trying to cover for you, but he needs to learn not to let himself get caught so easily in his words."

She smiled.

"Don't look at me like that Ashley. You think anything happens in this city that I don't know about?" she asked, "I knew that two individuals got married and that their certificate went through legally. It seemed like a magical union, at least from the trails there. So please close your mouth before something flies into it."

Ashley did so.

"Now I understand you did what you did for speed," said Bianca, "But I really wished that you had made some sort of announcement. I gather Becky had a rather interesting morning yesterday."

The expression on Ashley's face was actually quite glorious.

"Like I said, few things go on in this city I don't know about," said Bianca, "But let me put it this way; you eloped with Drake two weeks ago. For some reason you felt that you had to keep this secret. I'm quite shocked about that."

Ashley's face eroded from terrified into confused. It was moments like this that made holding offices of authority so fun.

"Let me be honest," Bianca said, leaning forward, "I have to admit that yes, when you first started carrying on with Drake it left a bitter taste in my mouth. What can I say? You were my apprentice, he was some Morganian that had tried to kill the Prime Merlinian that we were rehabilitating. Not to mention that your relationship started out with you crying about it during a training session. Put in terms like that you can understand what I was thinking, yes?"

She got a nod in response, which was quite enough encouragement for her to go on.

"But let me put it this way; he's not that Morganian anymore, even if he is still an asshole," she said, "And you're not my apprentice anymore. You're not a child. I trust you and I trust him."

Before Ashley could get a word in edgewise, which she was plainly planning on doing, Bianca pressed on.

"Why do you think I sent him overseas? I trust him with the jobs he's being given. Just like I trust you to keep this city safe. I've lived here my whole life, always coming back to it despite my work as a courier. It means quite a lot to me."

Now came the hard part. Bianca took a deep breath.

"Which is why I'm sure that you should be the next Prime," she said, "That's what I called you in for."

Ashley blinked before shaking her head slowly.

"I'm not-"

"The most experienced? Who is?" shrugged Bianca, "Jack doesn't want it. Craig wants to be left alone to fiddle with the wires. The twins are far too young. Michael wants to go around killing monsters forever. Those are our prominent Merlinians. No, you're the most suited to the job."

"Dave-"

"Dave, his family, and the Blakes are part of what we call a splinter organism," Bianca cut in, "They're not really part of our group. No, Ashley, you'll do more than fine. Prime Dono-no, Prime Stone will be quite good at her job. I know that much."

Tears were starting to well in Ashley's eyes. Bianca winked at her.

"We'll start the training for that in about three months," she said, "I've got to give you some time with your husband, don't I?"

Nodding Ashley got up. She reached over and placed her hand on the older woman's shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Bianca smiled back.

"You're doing me the favor," she said.

Ashley laughed and took her hand off.

"I was talking about not killing Drake," she said, heading towards the door.

"Oh, we'll still have to see about that."

The girl stopped in mid-step. Laughter bubbled up from Bianca's lips before she could stop it.

"Figuratively at least."


	87. Prompt 73: Science

_**A/N: **__I felt like there should be some sort of elaboration on where exactly Dave fits in with the grand scheme of things magically. _

73. Science

The second appointment that Bianca had scheduled for that morning went considerably different. For one thing she didn't have to leave for a minute to scream into something. A vein did start throbbing at her forehead rather sooner than she would've liked though. Things like that couldn't be helped.

Dave had knocked at exactly the time that she had e-mailed him. Ashley had left only a few minutes earlier and Bianca was still collecting herself. However, she managed to get her normal brittle appearance back by the time he came. Sitting up straighter in her chair she told him that he could come in.

He opened the door and sat down without preamble. She couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow. He was getting bold these days. When he had first been introduced to her he would've stood awkwardly, eyeing the seat for the longest time before.

"So," he said, "Ashley looks really happy."

"She just found out that I'm not going to kill her for getting married," said Bianca, "Tell her congratulations the next time you see her, would you?"

He blinked. His expression was confused. There was that awkward twenty-year old. He was still there. It was comforting somehow.

"…Drake and her?"

"Know anyone else she's been dating for the past few years?" asked Bianca, feeling a little irritated, "If you do then I'd be much obliged to you telling me."

"Well no. I just figured with him being-"

"Because if you do know something, oh mighty one, then I suppose you must think that I wouldn't know," she said sharply, "And I'd hate to think there was something obvious that I wouldn't know. If, say, and this is just an example, Drake had given any indication in the past few years of going postal and killing everyone?"

He shook his head mutely.

"Good," she said.

Still looking confused he swallowed. Then he looked at his watch and said;

"For um, for why you sent me an e-mail. Thing is I'm here during my lunch break. What's up?"

She gave him a dismissive wave.

"You'll just have to be late then," said Bianca, giving him her business smirk, "Now then, what do you know about Virginia?"

Dave frowned.

"Is this a trick question?"

"I mean magically," she said, annoyed.

"Um, they're the base of the Merlinian effort because they're the first British colony, right?" asked Dave, "Kinda like the headquarters?"

"Right," she said, "Well, I just got a special request forwarded to me from them. Apparently it came from Glastonbury."

She inched a piece of paper forward. Dave leaned forward and read it. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked up at Bianca.

"This a joke?" he asked.

"Yes and no. This is politics. There's often a joke but it's rarely funny," said Bianca.

His eyes scanned the text again. He had to squint a little as he did so and Bianca wondered if his eyesight was going. Dave was still quite young but he was under a good deal of stress. Two children and being the ultimate magic user in the world had its toll. Now she'd just added to his burden.

"It's unreasonable," said Dave, shoving it back to her.

"I agree," she said, "But the Primeship of Glastonbury is quite weighty among Primeships, second only to my husband's position. I'm not even getting into where the royal family is supposed to be in that hierarchy."

"You would think it would be London…"

"Glastonbury was where Arthur was interred originally and where Merlin was cremated," she said, "It's also thought to be very close to where Camelot was. Merlinians set quite a lot of stock with such things."

He nodded, still looking uncertain.

"So this Prime Oliver is important," he said, more in statement than anything.

"Very."

"I don't see how he can demand Excalibur back though," he said.

"He can't," replied Bianca, "Not really. But other Primeships might echo his cry. I mean, they had owned it for quite a while. George gave it to you because he believed it was your right. Even the royals grudgingly allowed you to have it. It's not like any of them can use it. But still, it's a symbol."

"I get that, and I appreciate that they let me have it in the first place. I know that it wasn't easy giving something like that to me," said Dave, "But this…this feels kinda like…this feels like blackmail."

"Like I said," Bianca said, "Politics. You'll find that a lot of it is blackmail between countries or Primeships."

"He's never even **met** me."

"For the third, and hopefully last time, politics! I guess you're familiar with every type of science but the political one," she said, recognizing the joke as a bad one, "Which would've been nice but too much to ask really."

Dave shook his head.

"This isn't politics and it sure as hell isn't science. Science makes sense," said Dave, "This is…different! I mean, how could he trust me with something like this?"

"It's not about trust. You're the Prime Merlinian. You're very powerful and very famous," Bianca said, "Anyone who trains under you is going to have some of that rub off on them and give them a wonderful head start."

"Look, I'm not giving the sword back but I'm not taking this guy's son as my first apprentice either!" snapped Dave.

"That's a little harsh. You don't even know the boy."

"I'm sure he's fine," said Dave, "But how could this guy trust me with his son? I've never met him. It's a huge responsibility and…"

"Children have been married young for political advantages in the past."

"This isn't the Dark Ages," snapped Dave, "This boy is most definitely not going to be my first apprentice. And as for the possibility of being my second, I'm not even sure I want to take more than one in the first place!"

"But you do want to take **one**," she said.

There was an awkward silence.

"I figured you and Balthazar would have worked something out," Bianca said, "That was why I didn't make inquiries about Lorna. If I were a little younger I would've been after her myself. As it was I would've suggested Ashley. Well, would've is the word we're looking for. Like I said, I knew better. Comes with the position."

Sighing Dave leaned back a little further and closed his eyes.

"Listen," she said, "I understand. I do. I'm completely on your side. It's unreasonable. But you're going to have to tell them yourself."

His eyes flickered open.

"Why?" asked Dave wearily.

"Because you, unfortunately, are not under my jurisdiction. You're not my sorcerers, not my subordinates, not even my equals really," said Bianca ruefully, "They think differently in Virginia, but that's because they don't quite understand. You're a splinter group, you and the Blakes and your wife. You do your own thing, not really answering to anyone. I can ask favors from you all, but I can't really order you to do anything."

She allowed herself to smile a little.

"You don't order legends to do things," she continued, "Only really stupid people do. Justin found out the hard way that you all are something different. But if I answer this for you then they're going to think that I have some sort of authority over you. That would be…needlessly complicated."

He nodded.

"I understand. So I'm going to have to reply to this e-mail then?"

"Yes, yes you are. It's not my field. Try to be diplomatic. Think of it as though it were a scientific problem you're solving. You don't want to completely alienate all of England."

"Don't worry," sighed Dave, heaving himself up from the chair, "I'll get Balthazar to help me with it."

She made a face.

"I thought I said to make this **diplomatic**."

Dave stopped, and then nodded.

"Right. Veronica then."

"You're getting the hang of it."


	88. Prompt 70: Unconcious

70. Unconscious

_ February 15, 2019_

_To Whom It May Concern;_

_ In response to the request given on February 12, 2019 I would have to ask that all future requests that concern myself be given to me. Prime Bianca Lawrence-Stafford of New York City is no longer a courier and should not be made to do the duties as such. Contact information for the future is contained in the attachment to this letter. Many of you are under the mistaken impression that I am part of the New York Merlinians. This is simply to correct that impression and to inform you that I am not. _

_ I shall try to be brief as I do not want to take up too much of your busy schedule with this response. Certain insinuations were made in the request on the given date that I had something wrongfully in my possession. Due to the fact that that the only possible object which these insinuations could refer to is the enchanted blade Excalibur I shall write keeping this in mind. If I am mistaken please tell me. _

_To these implications I would have to point out that it was the Grand High Sorcerer of England who had entrusted me with Excalibur in the first place. Circumstances were different but the sword was put in my possession for the remainder of my life. However, I do agree that perhaps the heirs of King Arthur have more right to the sword than those of Merlin._

_Because of this I will not attempt to pass the sword onto my sons. I fully understand that the blade is not mine to keep in perpetuity. I would negotiate the sword being returned after my death if terms were presented, and hopefully that would be a plan that would not have to be used for quite some time._

_ I would also have to respectfully decline the taking of Darren Oliver as my first apprentice. Please understand that this has nothing to do with neither the request that was previously mentioned nor my refusal to return Excalibur. I have nothing but the highest respect for the Prime of Glastonbury and the collective Primes of England. _

_I have already found my apprentice in Lorna Blake, who is to begin training with me a year from now. This has been an agreement in effect for some years now and has not been done recently. She will be my only apprentice for the foreseeable future, and quite possibly the unforeseeable future as well. Two apprentices at the same time would be quite impossible due to the fact that I need to keep up my public and private life as well, so please make no inquiries on that count._

_ With all possible respect;_

_ David Stutler_

_ Prime Merlinian_

Dave looked at the letter and weighed it in his mind. It was sufficient, he could tell that. It also showed exactly what his views were on the issues that had been presented to him. He was a little proud of how business-like it sounded. He had written letters in similar format in the past, so he was more than used to it.

Personally Dave was glad that he hadn't asked for help for Veronica. It made it more his letter. Dave had asked permission from her and her husband to use Lorna's name though. It had been granted. He smirked when he imagined the expressions on the Prime's faces when they heard that he'd selected the daughter of Balthazar Blake and Veronica Hunt as his apprentice. Any Primes who dared try to challenge that would have to be very brave or very stupid. Most likely they'd be both.

He especially liked the 'To Whom It May Concern'. It was only going to be sent to a few different Primeships, most notably the ones who had signed the letter that Prime Oliver had sent. The fact that he wouldn't take the time to write out there names would be taken as an insult. That would be good. It was meant as one after all.

Somehow that had made it seem better because of all the other things he had to write that he didn't want to. It had made him a little bitter to keep repeating his respect for these people. That was probably something you did in politics; lied about how much you respected people. He didn't need Bianca to tell him that.

He had written that he would be willing to return Excalibur after his death. That was true. Merlin had made the sword but he had made it for Arthur. Gareth had succeeded Arthur and then Henry I had succeeded him. This went, in a rather roundabout fashion, all the way down to the present royals. It was theirs, it belonged to them. He had such a small claim to it that he saw it as something that would be done rather than was a possibility.

So he could understand the anger of the Primes at it being taken from them. They hadn't complained when he'd been using it to fight Mordred, but he couldn't blame them for that. Mordred was a rampaging psychopath and he'd be willing to do things he didn't like to get rid of him. Nearly nine years after the fact was a long time to go without complaint, but he figured that people were funny things.

No, what really got him was Darren Oliver. Bianca was right, the boy didn't really have anything to do with it. What sort of man would trust his son to someone he'd never met before? Darren would have to cross an ocean and go to an unfamiliar place to get trained by him, to leave his family behind. Something unconsciously in his mind made him adverse to that.

He could kind of see that his father wanted him to get 'the best'. As much as he didn't like thinking of himself in that way, it was sort of true. To him he saw it as parents who sent their kids off to prestigious boarding schools so they'd get a head start in life. This seemed crueler than that though.

No one had to tell him that the first apprentice was supposed to be special. He had found out from reading the Incantus and figuring things out in his head. The reason was quite simply that you never did anything the same way you do it the first time. Some said practice made perfect, but the first apprentice was a sort of weird honor. This was your first attempt on making a legacy of your magical ideas. This was the first time when you would trust someone to train under you, to trust yourself to do it right.

That was why Horvath's betrayal was considered so disgusting by the Merlinians. Besides the obvious fact that he had completely done a 180 he was Merlin's first apprentice. That made him closer than any of the others to him. It also put him forth as an example for Balthazar and Veronica. The Incantus spoke with repugnance with what he'd done because he'd probably been the apprentice that was trusted the most.

Lorna was going to be Dave's first apprentice. It had been decided ever since Balthazar had asked him all those years ago. He had understood the significance quite quickly. Dave had seen how Balthazar had looked at his daughter when she was first given to him. Lorna was the product of a love that he had carried with him for over a millennium. She was an object of wonder for him. There was no way he was going to entrust something like her training to someone that didn't have his implicit trust and respect.

That knowledge honored Dave that Veronica and Balthazar chose him. It had given him an unconscious ideal of how a first apprentice was supposed to be given. There was supposed to be trust there and some sort of understanding. This wasn't just some sort of magical game, this was a child that he was expected to instruct.

That was why the idea that this Prime thought he could just force his way in made him want to vomit. There was nothing to be had from this except a political advantage. He had put it down as an ultimatum. Darren was being thrown around so that his father could advance himself, no trust and not the right kind of respect.

And he was expected to throw aside Lorna for that? No. If this Prime thought he could do that he had another thing coming. The next letter wouldn't be so civil, politics be damned. A first apprentice, any apprentice really, shouldn't happen because of politics. It should happen because the two parties recognized that the apprentice in question would thrive under the chosen master. It should happen because the parties trusted each other.

It was because of this unconscious ideal that he was determined to take Lorna as his apprentice. It was also because of this that he wanted to ask Balthazar if he'd train his sons. Balthazar might refuse because he would be too tired, but he would still ask. If not he'd find someone else that he could trust. However, he was hoping that it would be Balthazar. At least then he'd know what his kids were in for.


	89. Prompt 43: Bazooka

43. Bazooka

"I'm a ballerina this year," explained Lorna, "Mama didn't have to work too hard 'cause I'm taking ballet classes."

Horvath watched in amusement as she showed off her toe slippers. They were white, just like the rest of her ensemble. The tiara was probably the one she had used when she was Aurora. At least he thought it was. The only reason he knew any of the Disney princesses at all was that she kept proclaiming them.

"And how are you liking that?"

"A lot," she said, beaming, "Sam's in the class too, that's how I found out about it. I thought I'd give it a go. I'm not bad at it. See, I can do the toe thing."

She boosted herself up on her toes, making it so that she stood nearly a half an inch taller. Her balance was still precocious and she wobbled a little. Horvath had the urge to roll his eyes but it was, in its own way, cute. At one point in his life he had been fond of children, had actually wanted some.

This had been before everything had gone wrong of course, or he had seen the light. Still, Lorna was hard not to at least be amused by. His lack of conversation was also making him more than just a little happy when he saw that she was coming. An inch of gratitude had grown inside him that she came every year without fail. For that her death was going to be painless, much more than he could say for Dave and whatever idiot had married him.

"It's making me more ac-ro-bat-ic," said Lorna, letting herself back down to her normal height, "Which is good, because I'm gonna be an apprentice this February. Didja remember that? Didja? Huh?"

"Yes. You talk about it quite a bit."

"Oops. Well, I'm excited," she said, "Mama and Daddy are making my ring right now. They say they're not but I know they are. They're gonna have it grow to fit my finger. Did you ever have a ring like that?"

"Yes," he said before he could stop himself.

She smiled and he swore inwardly. He had in fact had a ring like that. He had been given it by Merlin but put it in his sword several years later. It bothered him that she knew more about him than he actually knew about her. He was supposed to be finding out information that could be useful when he escaped, not entertaining some child.

"Of course Kevin and Eli are jealous," she confided, "They're not gonna be apprentices for two more years. Sorta. They're five now."

"These are your friends, yes?" he asked, now back on track and on high alert, "Brothers right? Twins?"

"Yup," she said, tugging on her hair that she had allowed to flow loose around her shoulders, "They're storm troopers this year. No, one's a storm trooper, Eli, and the other's Luke Skywalker. That's Kevin. Their Dad likes _Star Wars _so of course they do. I like _Star Wars_ too but there's not enough magic. The swords are cool though. I wish I had a sword."

Somehow the image of the child-faerie with a sword made him laugh. Not knowing the joke Lorna started to laugh along with him.

"But they're more like brothers. Not friends," she explained, "I don't have any brothers. I don't have any sisters either. I don't have any pets come to think of it. But they're close. To being brothers, not sisters or pets."

"You're going to want to be careful of that," said Horvath, ruefully remembering the last woman who had referred to him as her brother.

Lorna frowned.

"Why?"

"No reason. It doesn't matter."

Due to the fact that she was never going to grow up he was speaking the truth; it wouldn't matter for her.

"You say weird things Mirror Man," she said.

"Mirror Man?"

"That's what I call you, 'cause you never told me your name," she said, "You wanna or is Mirror Man good?"

"It's sufficient if you can't be more creative," snorted Horvath.

She laughed just as the door opened. Horvath quickly hid behind the frame of the mirror. He could still see them but from his new position hey couldn't see him. Two boys walked in, one dressed as a jedi and the other as a storm trooper. So this was Kevin and Eli. She frowned and crossed her arms when they came in.

"What are you doing up here?" she asked.

"Lookin' for you," said Eli, "Whatcha doin' up here?"

"Stuff," she shrugged, "Are our parents here yet?"

"Nope," Kevin answered, swinging a plastic lightsaber, "This place is weird. I didn't know we had an attic."

"Of course there's an attic," said Lorna, "All cool buildings have an attic."

Her assertive attitude made Horvath want to laugh again.

"I think we have an attic," Eli said, "But I know your house doesn't have an attic."

She bristled.

"Our whole **house **is an attic!"

"That's not the same."

"Is so!"

"Is not."

"You're just jealous 'cause I know you're not allowed to go in your attic," she said triumphantly.

Eli pointed his storm trooper gun at her and squeezed the trigger. Water shot out and hit her in the face.

"No fair!" she yelled, "You can't have a water bazooka!"

"Eli, that was kinda-" started Kevin.

"Who says?"

"Me!"

"Well make me not have it!"

She launched herself at him, knocking it out of his hands. Eli jerked away but not before she'd picked him up around the waist and swirled him around.

"Say you're sorry!"

"No!"

Despite the fact that he was being essentially

"Lorna let him down!" Kevin said, "We're gonna get in trouble!"

"Only in trouble if you get caught!" yelled Eli.

"Your parents need to lay off the Disney movies."

All three children turned as Bianca came in through the door. Her arms were crossed and to Horvath's eyes she had aged some.

"What part of stay in the lobby don't you understand?" she sighed.

"The bit about the lobby," Kevin said.

She shot him a dirty look.

"Okay, clear up and get down there," she said, "And don't come up here again. This place is off limits."

Lorna set Eli down.

"But why Mrs. Prime?"

"Because there's dangerous stuff down here," she said, "You'll learn all about it when you're apprentices. Now get downstairs."

Picking up his water bazooka Eli trotted downstairs with his brother close behind him. Lorna lingered though.

"But I'm nearly an apprentice Mrs. Prime," she said, "You can tell me."

"Look, Lorna," said Bianca, "Like I said, there is some really dangerous stuff. I don't want there to be any accidents. If anything happened to you Balthazar and Veronica would have my head twice over."

Horvath's brow furrowed. Why was she bringing up their names? Dave was her father…wasn't he? An unpleasant thought started as Lorna said, as though far away;

"My parents are much too nice to take anyone's head off."

"Uh huh," said Bianca, "Just get downstairs."

Hate boiled up in Horvath's mind. She was Balthazar's daughter, Balthazar's with **Veronica**. With rage-filled eyes he watched the girl skip out of the room. All of the plans of killing her quickly and painlessly disappeared. New plans formed in his head even before Bianca had closed and locked the door.


	90. Prompt 61: Werewolf

_**A/N: **__And now for some traditional slapstick humor. It's been way too long since I did a chapter like this and there's not that many more chances coming up. _

61. Werewolf

"I hate you! I hate you so much!"

"Calm down Dave!" Balthazar snapped, running.

"I still hate you!"

Balthazar looked over his shoulder at the werewolf pack that was currently chasing them. Nothing was ever simple. You went to a mountain retreat expecting to put down one or two werewolves. Before you knew it there was a horde of them chasing you because the werewolf you were after was the pack leader. This was one of those times that he believed fate was having a little bit of fun with him.

"Why is that?" Balthazar hissed, "If you want someone to blame then you should blame yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"Think back real hard," said Balthazar sarcastically, "I'm not the one who just called him out right there! He was surrounded by at least three others!"

"I didn't expect the **whole** bar to be full of werewolves!" said Dave, turning around quickly and firing three plasma bolts into the oncoming horde, "I could've taken on three easily enough. I could've done that in my sleep."

Balthazar didn't dare turn around but the sounds of whimpers told him that the bolts had hit home. He quickly sent a few of his own to join Dave's. They took out much less. He prided himself on his ability to conjure up plasma bolts quickly and aim accurately but he couldn't do rapid fire like Dave. No one but him could do that, only someone with the power of Merlin in his veins. Balthazar especially couldn't do so when he was trying to run and remember where he had parked the car in the first place.

"Well neither did I!" he said, remembering the accusation that had been directed his way only minutes before.

Dave snorted.

"You were the one who researched this place, weren't you?"

"Oh, so now I get all the blame because I missed out on one tiny little thing?" said Balthazar.

"It being a werewolf hideout is hardly a little thing!"

"It's not like they're going to put that on the website," Balthazar snapped, "I can see it now 'lovely lakeside views, picturesque mountains, and a pack of slobbering werewolves ready to devour your flesh'!"

"Stop being so dramatic," said Dave, giving another volley of plasma bolts over his shoulder.

"Well you just conserve your energy for running. We can hash this out later when there's not so many werewolves."

"Later we could very well be dead!"

"We're not going to die. We've been through worse," said Balthazar.

"This is up there though!"

That was true. Dave and he had been in situations where their ultimate demise was a much more foregone conclusion. The battles with Morgana and Mordred for one. Since then they had travelled the world and fought countless monsters and Morganian sorcerers. The Great Balthazar Blake and the Prime Merlinian were in high demand. So was Veronica, but in different ways and in situations that called for less blatant fixes.

He'd been all over the world in his search for the Prime Merlinian. Their missions had been similar and his talent with languages had come in handy. Lorna's room was littered with things that he'd brought back for her. He thought that Dave's children must have similar tokens of world-wide adventures.

"Perhaps," said Balthazar grimly, "But Lorna has a ballet recital tomorrow that I promised to go to. While I'm not particularly looking forward to that I've missed one already so come hell or high water I am going to that."

"Great! Saved by a ballet recital!"

"Stop panicking!"

"I'm not panicking!" screamed Dave, "I'm completely calm! Nothing hysterical about me, nope, nuh-huh!"

"There's **always** something hysterical about you."

"Uh, guys?" asked Craig over the crackling earpieces, "I'm guessing that this is going a little less than planned?"

"Just a little," muttered Dave.

"You are nearly thirty years old," said Balthazar, "I suggest you grow up sometime before you start training my daughter."

"Oh guys," sighed Craig.

He pitied the technician who had to be privy to far too many of their arguments. It was an occupational hazard though.

"So I'm picking up close to thirty of them-"

"Twenty-seven," said Dave as he picked off a further three with his plasma bolts.

"Alright, twenty seven," Craig corrected, "Some of them are breaking off. They're going to try and cut you off by the road I think."

"Fine," said Balthazar, "Dave, remember that situation with the Enchinadas in Australia?"

Dave shuddered. For once Balthazar didn't blame him for his reaction. That was something not soon to be forgotten.

"Good," said Balthazar, "I think we can do something like that. We're in similar terrain after all."

"Do you mean before we did that thing with the kangaroo or after?" asked Dave, "Because I see a distinct lack of kangaroos."

"I mean after."

"Oh, right. Yeah, definitely. Same parts as before?"

"Of course."

They were nearly at the road. Before they reached it Dave threw a plasma bolt at the trees behind them. Balthazar started on the ones in the front and had shot three at their bases. Nearly in unison the trees started crashing down around them. Some of them fell on the werewolves that lagged behind them. The other trees formed a barrier so that the others couldn't get in. Now they were in a more manageable number.

"Right or left old man?" asked Dave.

"Right. And you're not exactly young either."

Balthazar shot flames from his hands. Flames were good for destroying werewolves, ideal for destroying just about anything. Silver was best but there was a distinct lack of silver around. They had brought some but not enough for the large numbers that they were facing now. Some good controlled flames were working well.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Dave had opted for ice magic. Werewolves were quite fragile, or more so than most monsters. Ice would work as well but Balthazar had actually found it to be more temperamental than fire. Considering how Dave had taken down a dragon not that long ago with ice meant that he was more than proficient in it though. Slowly but surely the numbers were fallen.

"I've got eight now," said Craig over their ear pieces, "There's two right next to you and the rest are right over you."

It helped to have someone in tech. Balthazar looked up to see six werewolves had made it over the wall of trees that they had made. He shot out more flames which caught two of them in mid leap. One of them came crashing down, biting into his arm. The thick leather of his coat protected him though as it only just got him. He pushed it off before giving it a plasma bolt and knocking it against the trees.

Dave had taken care of two himself and caught the remaining three with his plasma bolts. He turned to Balthazar, looking rather frazzled.

"Got 'em all Craig," he said.

"Good to know," said Craig, "See you guys back at the Chrysler building."

Static crackled on their earpieces as Craig switched off. Sighing Balthazar ran his hadn through his hair and turned to his former apprentice. For a long time Balthazar and Dave stared at each other. Then Dave shook his head. He gave a weak grin and extended his fist. Some things never changed.

"Knuckle bump?"

"Might as well," shrugged Balthazar.


	91. Prompt 68: Underground

68. Underground

"Stop squirming."

"I'm not squirming mama," insisted Lorna.

"Lorna," Veronica sighed, "You're squirming. Now come on. I just need to finish tying up these laces. I'm almost done."

Her daughter stayed unusually still until she was done. As soon as she withdrew though Lorna twirled around, letting her dress swirl out.

"It's so pretty!" she cooed, "I like this much better than that Aurora outfit and I really liked that! Mama, where's a mirror?"

Laughing Veronica conjured a reflective surface. Her daughter was in a simple gown made of pale blue cloth. The outfit had long sleeves with white under sleeves that came to a point. Veronica had modeled it after a gown of white blanchet that she had worn once and was suitable for a girl of her daughter's age. She had to be dressed appropriately for the ceremony after all.

"I look so grown-up!" squealed Lorna, "Just like you in the Incantus mama!"

Veronica blinked. Lorna gave her a hand-in-the-cookie jar look.

"I know I'm not supposed to be reading it, and a lot of the words are difficult," she said, "But there was this picture of you when you were little and you were meeting Daddy and it was so pretty."

She frowned for a minute.

"Not a lot of pictures in the Incantus," she said, "I only saw one of you when you were older and you were with Daddy fighting some sorcerer or another."

"That's because it's your father's Incantus, and he's never been much for pictures," said Veronica, regaining her voice and smoothing her daughter's hair, "If you want yours to have lots of pictures then it will."

"I do," said Lorna, "They're really beautiful."

Giving her daughter a quick smile she checked her watch. It was almost time. Lorna seemed to sense it too because she suddenly became very excited.

"Now mama?" she asked, "I've been waiting and waiting and waiting. Is it now? Is it?"

"Just about," said Veronica, taking her daughter's hand gently, "Come on. We'll need to head to the practice room."

Lorna gave a squeal of delight and clasped her hand tightly. Feeling the small hand securely in hers Veronica led her out of the side room and down the winding stairs underground. It seemed strange to her to be taking her daughter to be trained. Admittedly it was Dave doing the training, so she had no real worries on that score.

No, she wasn't worried at all when she stopped and thought about it. She was perhaps surprised that her daughter was already the required seven years, seven months, and seven days for training. Time seemed to get away from her a little and she remembered when she had first taken Lorna with her to the park, held her in her arms at the hospital. She even remembered when she had first been told she was pregnant, had told Balthazar that she was expecting his child.

Also there was the fact that she was apprenticing her to someone. In Veronica's family all the women had been trained by their mothers. However, she suspected that her mother shielded her from the worst death beds and hardest tasks. This was the real reason that she hadn't voiced a complaint when Balthazar had first suggested that Lorna be Dave's apprentice when she was old enough. Lorna had only been three months, but that was something that was best sorted out quickly to avoid conflict.

Lorna certainly seemed excited about her future training. She had spoken of nothing else all year. That was only natural. She had grown up in a highly magical environment. There was no reason why she wouldn't have been exposed to magic, wouldn't have seen it as something, well, magical.

The two of them headed downstairs. Lorna waved cheerfully the assembled group. Balthazar stood on the outside of the circle, giving a smile to his daughter. Becky was a little ways off, her latest pregnancy not yet showing. Her sons standing were next to her. They were watching the events with wide eyes, no doubt anticipating their own apprenticeships in two years.

Dave was standing inside the circle, cracking his neck from side to side. Veronica noticed it was a habit of his before he did some sort of complicated magic. She had often thought that it was his way of clearing his mind. When he was finished he looked at Veronica and Lorna. He nodded to Veronica, who reluctantly let go of her daughter's hand.

Lorna looked up at her.

"You have to do this part by yourself. Just remember what you're supposed to say. I'm sure you'll do brilliantly."

For a second she saw a flicker of fear in Lorna's eyes. Veronica smiled reassuringly and gave her a nudge.

"Go on."

Nodding once Lorna stepped forward. Feeling strange Veronica walked over to Balthazar. As soon as she was gone Dave nodded at Lorna once and made a motion for her to stay still for a minute. Then he raised his eyes. The lights flickered and Veronica thought she saw fear register on Lorna's face again. When the Merlin's Circle lit up with green fire though, Veronica saw only wonder and excitement.

"Step in," Dave said.

Careful to avoid the flames Lorna did so. Her ballet training made her especially dexterous.

"I am David Stutler," Dave said, "Sorcerer of the 777th degree."

The last part was an estimate. There was no way to measure Dave's degree anymore. The ceremony of binding had changed somewhat since she had been an apprentice. It required more responses from the apprentice, and actually mentioned their name. She knew that Balthazar had performed the old and abridged ceremony with David, but that had been because he was in a hurry. Lorna was getting the modern version.

"As of now you're a child," said Dave, "And you inexperienced in the craft. Before this you have received no prior instruction in the craft, have you not?"

"I have not," said Lorna, her voice trembling a little.

Veronica's hand found Balthazar's. He gripped it back.

"This day you pledge allegiance to the principles of our order; to keep our gifts secret and to act as servants to the greater good," said Dave.

"I do," said Lorna, her voice stronger now.

Reaching into his pocket Dave pulled out a chain. It had a stag on it, paused in mid-leap. They had had it made especially for Lorna so it would fit. The stag was Balthazar's sign from when his last name had still been Blakeson. Veronica had never had one, as the daughter of a farmer. Seeing as her last name had been Hunt though she found the stag rather appropriate. Dave put it around Lorna's neck; the links clinked together as he did so.

"Will you follow in the footsteps of the Merlinian Sorcerers who have gone before you, the steps of Merlin himself," said Dave, "And to protect humanity from our wars as completely as you can?"

"I do."

"Will you never give in to the dark, no matter how strong it becomes?" asked Dave, "As long as there is a breath in my body will you fight it? Will you swear to defend the world against any threats?"

Her hand gripped Balthazar's tighter as Lorna said, more confident at that moment then she had been during the entire ceremony;

"I swear."

Smiling Dave took a ring out of his pocket. It was spun silver, twisting around a sapphire in the middle. Lorna held out her hand, her eyes wide. As Dave slipped it on he said;

"With your caster I confirm that you, Lorna Blake, have been appointed my apprentice from this day until you become a Master yourself."

The flames in the circle went out abruptly. Lorna looked up, her eyes shining and her smile large. She said something to Dave that Veronica couldn't hear, something that made him laugh. Then she ran over to her parents, this time not really minding the Circle. She all but leapt into Veronica's arms.

Veronica boosted her up so that both she and Balthazar were holding her.

"Did you see that mama, daddy? Did you see me?" she asked excitedly.

"Yes," smiled Veronica, "We saw you."


	92. Prompt 11: Nose

11. Nose

Dave had honestly never expected to be in this situation. It had never even crossed his mind. His own experiences of school when he was younger had never prepared him for anything like this. Admittedly he had been bullied but that was different, nothing, absolutely nothing at all like this.

Well, he had seen things on T.V like this. He had always thought that was a very rare occurrence. Children in movies and television seemed, at best, like pale caricatures of the real thing. Life seldom worked out in that manner, that clean sort of way that all children shows ended with. Even in movies children generally seemed to come out better. No one wanted to see bad things happening to children after all.

So when he had gotten the phone call from the school he had been shocked to say the least. It was his day off and Becky was broadcasting so he had gone. That was why he was in the large chair in Mr. Fax's, the principal, office. His son Kevin was sitting on his right, a large bruise forming on the right hand corner of his forehead. Eli was on his left and neither of them had met his gaze.

"Mr. Stutler," said Mr. Fax, "I'm sorry to have to call you in."

"No, no trouble at all," said Dave, "What exactly happened?"

Mr. Fax winced. This wasn't going to be good.

"It appears that there was an altercation in the cafeteria."

Altercation. A fancy word for a fight. Great. He had guessed as much from the bruise that Kevin was sporting. He had never taught his sons to be particularly athletic, although they were in their own ways. That wasn't his fault though. Both of them knowing how to read in Kindergarten was though. Becky shared the blame for that though, Lorna too. They liked playing school far too much for normal.

Athletic or smart though, six-year olds were not supposed to have **altercations**. That was a word you used when teenagers got into fist fights. That was a word you used in court rooms to describe what the defendant had done. He glanced over at his sons, who still refused to look up at him.

"Go on," he said.

"The other boys involved in this," Mr. Fax said, shuffling around some papers, "named, you'll understand if I leave out last names; Dennis, Connor, Jacob, Alexander, and Simon were part of what you could call...a lunch group."

Dave's eyes hardened. That was a word that countless teachers had used to describe bullies who had decided to call him names that day.

"I understand," he said coldly.

"It appears that one of them was making some comments about Eli's glasses," he said, "I won't read them…it appears that some swearing was involved."

Eli's glasses had been prescribed to him a year ago and he'd worn them on a daily basis ever since he'd gotten them. Kevin's vision had stayed good though, which was just as well because when they dressed the same he had trouble telling them apart. He was quite proud of them for some reason though.

"I see," said Dave, "And?"

"I believe Eli told them that they could shove it up theirs," said Mr. Fax, "Not a phrase that I believe was appropriate…but it was certainly better than what they were saying."

He wished that Mr. Fax would stop making all of those awkward pauses.

"Agreed."

Eli peeked up for the first time since Dave had come into the room. He lowered his eyes quickly but it was a good sign.

"From what several surrounding children say Connor shoved him to the ground and looked as though he was going to kick him," Mr. Fax said, "And then…Kevin came over and shoved him into Dennis who was then knocked down."

Domino effect. He looked over at Kevin whose jaw was clenched.

"Dennis then says that he tried to run away-"

"That's a lie!" Kevin snapped, "He picked up his lunch box and was gonna hit me! If anythin' he was runnin' **at** me!"

Mr. Fax sighed.

"Which was a lie, as I was going to say because we have plenty of people who say differently. And Dennis is not known for his honesty," he said, "I wish that you didn't feel the need to…argue with everything."

Kevin's fists tightened and Dave put his hand on his shoulder. His son looked up at him, his lower lip trembling. He gave him a reassuring grin.

"And then Eli grabbed his leg and pulled him down. After that it became a little hard to keep track of everything," continued Mr. Fax, oblivious to the parental scene in front of him, "Because too many kids were running around and screaming. By the time the aides got there it was pretty much…chaos."

Again with the pauses.

"But it seems like Kevin broke Simon's nose-" he said.

"Did not!" Eli said, "He did that when he tripped. His own stupid fault an' then he started cryin' like a baby-"

"A slip of tongue," sighed Mr. Fax, shuffling his papers some more, "Your sons got off pretty mild Mr. Stutler. There was some…interesting use of trash cans apparently."

"Interesting," repeated Dave.

"They knocked them over so that the boys would trip on them."

His sons were talking to Lorna too much. She had used that trick on him once when she was running away for the millionth time.

"I trust my sons aren't in any trouble," he said, trying not to show how impressed he was with his sons taking on five kids and winning, "It doesn't sound like they were in the wrong here, only defending themselves."

"They are not really in trouble, because they were defending themselves," he said, "We are only worried about the excessive use of…violence."

The principal's voice had undertones which irritated Dave. He knew that next would come implications about his parenting skills. Dave had learned that when his mother would come in. None of the principals wanted it to be their fault. However, watching his mother had well prepared him how to handle this sort of thing.

"I just want to clarify one thing," he said, "This happened in the cafeteria, right?"

"Correct."

"Then I'd like to know where the aides were," Dave said, "If they were doing their job then this wouldn't have happened at all. And I don't think that five boys surrounding one and making comments is something that shouldn't attract attention."

Mr. Fax flushed. Dave shook his head and got up.

"If my sons aren't in any trouble then I think I'll be leaving with them," he said, "Trust me, I'll have a talk with them and their mother will be informed. I trust that next time a kid gets bullied the adults will at least **try** to do something."

Without another word Dave motioned to his sons. They slid off their chairs and followed him out of the hall. Neither of them said anything when they got into the car and neither did Dave. Only when they had backed out of the parking lot and pulled out into the street did he decide he should say something.

"Both of you," he said, choosing his words carefully, "You're not in any trouble. I want you to know that."

He turned a corner and heard sighs of relief.

"I also want you to know that you should never be ashamed to try and defend each other," he said, "It sounds like you were both very brave. However, I do agree that you both probably went overboard."

Out of the review mirror he saw them looking at him with wide eyes.

"Now there weren't any adults there, so I understand you just had to rely on yourselves," continued Dave, "And I'm glad that both of you did try to do what's right. Just remember that violence isn't the best way to get things done."

He winced. It sounded a little hypocritical coming from him.

"But sometimes options are exhausted," he said, "But like I said, you're not in any trouble."

The atmosphere was relaxing considerably.

"Although I'm pretty sure your mother is going to want to give you a talk of her own," added Dave.

Both of his sons gave a little sigh of complaint. It appeared that they weren't off the hook that easy.


	93. Prompt 83: Mirror

83. Mirror

Lorna loved Halloween. She loved the sheer pageantry of it all, loved the fact that showers of candy would be rained on her. At school there were parties with cookies and candies. In this area she didn't have much experience, being only eight, but she quite liked the Halloween parties. She had some miniature Hershey bars from it stuffed into the pockets of her jackets. It was an auspicious beginning to the holiday.

Most of all though she loved the costumes. Her mother was quite the seamstress and repeatedly made wonderful works of art for her to wear. Most kids bought their costumes at the store, but not her mama. She could make the most amazing outfits. You couldn't get away with wearing that stuff in everyday life. People would call you names if you tried it.

That Friday was a particularly good day for her. Halloween fell on a Saturday that year, so the schools could celebrate it a day early. She was allowed to wear her costume and go about doing daily activities in it. No one was saying anything; they were all dressed up too. Even the teachers were wearing costumes.

She had asked her mother to dress her up as Nimue that year. Her mother had been suspicious of that, especially of the rough draft of the gown that Lorna had drawn in crayon. She had the feeling that her mother knew that she was really dressing up as her. She had first seen that dress when she had been flipping through her new Incantus. Luckily her mother had decided not to call her out on it and Lorna got to be Veronica that year, even if it was secret.

Finishing her last math problem, adding large numbers of pumpkins and bats, she dug around in her backpack. One of the first things Dave had shown her how to do was to make the Incantus pocket-sized. He said that he really wished that had been the first thing that her father had taught him. She wasn't so sure, she had been hopeful for levitation, but she figured that he knew what he was talking about.

It was actually rather useful. This way it looked like a normal book that she could read in class. Chewing on her tongue she opened it to the page that she had left off at. The print was small in the pocket-size form but she could still read it. She was careful to resist that she didn't read it during her lessons. Lorna had to make sure that none of the teachers confiscated it for any reason.

She was still flipping through the pages when the bell rang. Hurriedly she jammed the book into her Disney Princess backpack. Then she fetched her large white ski jacket. She didn't like it because it covered up most of her costume, all but the bottom part of the skirt and her gold rope circlet. It was cold out though and her mother wouldn't let her wear the matching cape to school. Tomorrow she'd be able to, but not that day.

Putting on her backpack she trotted out into the hall. Her eyes instinctively slid back to where the younger kids had their classes. Because of their ages Kevin and Eli had gotten out of school a whole hour earlier than her. They had also had lunch earlier. If they'd had lunch at the same time then those moron kids would've gotten a piece of her mind, quite a large one, when they'd pulled that stunt the previous week. No one messed with her boys.

Earlier that day she had helped them draw fake scars on Kevin's face. His bruise had started to heal, turning green. That had probably prompted his decision to be Frankenstein that year. His mother had drawn the scars on earlier but they had started to smudge. When she was supposed to be at lunch and them at recess they had met. She'd drawn them back on with some make-up crayon.

Eli would've done it but his hands were hard to maneuver. He'd wanted to be the Mummy to accompany his brother's Frankenstein. His hands were swathed in gauze. While he could still hold a pencil and write delicate work like this was out of the question. He had made helpful comments while she had worked instead.

They weren't there now though and she headed out to the front of the school. All of the children were standing there, waiting for the bus or their parent's pick-up. Lorna adjusted her backpack and resisted the urge to dig out her Incantus again. Dave had told her not to let people see her reading it too much of the time.

Just when she was getting bored her parent's car pulled up. There wasn't any one like it so she recognized it instantly. So did the teacher.

"Lorna, you just go on ahead," she called.

Lorna nodded and then skipped to the car. The day was turning out quite well if she did say so herself.

.

.

.

Balthazar walked hurriedly along the sidewalk, his hand shoved in his pockets but his coat not done up. It was cold that day, cold enough for a scarf, hat, coat, and gloves. In his mind it wasn't cold enough to try and coax his stubborn buttons into obedience. They had had it in for him ever since he had bought that coat in the first place.

He was running only a few minutes late that day, traffic was horrendous. It even slowed down pedestrians. On most days he preferred to walk. In cases of extreme weather he sometimes took out the car. Why he hadn't decided to use it that day was beyond him and he had suffered the price for it.

There was something about Halloween that made everyone want to get out and come to New York. Personally he didn't understand it, but they had grown up with different Halloween traditions than he had. The city certainly commercialized Halloween to the hilt, much like they did Christmas. Still, he was at the school now and he'd have to apologize when he met Lorna. She was the forgiving type and it was only a few minutes.

As he approached the school he scanned the lingering children for his daughter. When he didn't see her he frowned. Then again, it was cold out. She had probably gone back inside, even though it was pretty early for that. Deciding that it was worth checking on he headed towards the school entrance.

"Mr. Blake?"

He turned and saw Lorna's teacher, Mrs. Harte. He gave a half-smile reserved for people who were important but he didn't know particularly well.

"Yes," he said, letting go of the door handle, "Have you seen Lorna?"

"I was just going to say," she said, "I guess your wife picked her up."

He furrowed his brow. The last time he checked Veronica was helping Tabitha and Julian gather herbs in Central Park.

"Oh," he said, "Are you sure she didn't go inside or…?"

"Oh no," said Mrs. Harte, "Your car, you know the fancy one, pulled up. Lorna went in. I saw her myself."

"Alright, I guess she just forgot to call me," he said, "Thanks."

"Nothing to it Mr. Blake."

She walked off and Balthazar picked up his cell phone. He started heading back towards the Arcana Cabana when Veronica picked up.

"Veronica Blake," she said.

"Hey, Veronica?" asked Balthazar, "I think I'm forgetting things. Did you say you'd pick up Lorna today or-?"

"Love," Veronica sighed, "You know how angry the twins make the dryads; they never really forgave them for the time Julian carved his initials in the tree. I'm still with them. I've been here for hours."

An icy chill gripped him.

"Why do you ask?"

Without answering he shoved the phone in his pocket. He started running, hardly knowing where to. His feet did though and he was at the Chrysler building before he started to feel the burn in his lungs. The elevators were much too slow for him though and he took the stairs. By the time he got to the top floor most other men would collapse. Not anyone who had the fears inside of him that he did though.

"Balthazar?" asked Jack, seeing him come in, "I didn't know you were coming in-"

He brushed past him. He didn't have time to be polite. Instead he mounted the steps to the secret attic, taking them two at a time. Balthazar didn't bother with using magic to open the door at the top of the stairs; he just shoved it open with his shoulder. Luckily the wood gave way soon and he was treated to the last sight in the world he wanted to see.

One of the mirrors had shattered. Glass was scattered all over the floor, probably by the force of the mirror's inhabitant breaking free. He didn't need to bother to think about who that inhabitant might be. Balthazar already knew, and that was why he sank to his knees and dug his nails into the floor in a mixture of terror and fury.

Horvath was free and Lorna was missing.


	94. Prompt 44: Nemesis

44. Nemesis

In the same hour as her disappearance Lorna's school was all-but raided. No signs of intense magic use were found. There was the slight spark from where the car had been transformed into a duplicate of Balthazar's, and another unidentifiable one. They had tried to pin it down, but it was mixed in with the others far too much to be recognized. Bianca had tried to follow the magic trail with her sand, but it had been shut down almost immediately. Horvath had a strong damper on.

What worried him most, besides the fact that his insane nemesis had captured his daughter, was the unidentified magic used. What had happened in that car? Had Horvath stunned Lorna, or had he killed her? Balthazar could only pray that it had been the former. It was more of his style to use a hostage. However, he may have changed since they had imprisoned him in the mirror eight years ago. The thought haunted him.

It haunted Veronica too. She hadn't cried or screamed when she'd been told the news. Instead a terrible change had come over her, somehow making her look desolate and as though someone had taken part of her soul. Balthazar had reached forward and held his wife close. They had stayed like that only a few minutes, and then they had separated. Their anxieties had to be squashed for the moment; they had to go and find their daughter. Together they could pour out their fear later. This was what was important.

For hours Bianca had gone through any signs of recent Morganian activity. Nothing seemed to be wrong, but it was possible that Horvath had contacted them recently. Even after his defeat any Morganian would jump at the chance to work with him. The mirror had shattered that day, only an hour before Balthazar had discovered that Lorna was missing. The evidence showed that he had been planning this for quite some time.

How long though? Had he actually contacted the Mornganians? Had he found a way to make it look like he had only been out for two hours? It frustrated him how little they knew. There were no leads, nothing to follow and it was driving him mad. In a few nightmares Horvath had killed Veronica, but even his twisted imagination had never come up with a scenario where this had happened to Lorna. He'd thought that she'd be safe from that.

From the next room he heard Kevin and Eli murmuring to themselves. Dave had brought them into the Chrysler building. If Horvath knew about Lorna being Balthazar's daughter then he might know about Dave's children as well. Becky was there, in the last month of her pregnancy. They weren't going to take any more risks.

He ran his hands through his hair and looked at the Morganian strongholds. With nothing more than a few supposed leads they had to look at areas of Morganian magic. Horvath might be hiding out there to disguise his magic. 'Might' was there again, and it was driving him more insane every time he heard it.

From her office he could hear Bianca calling in Drake from his position in Canada. She supposed that they would need all of their resources to take on Horvath, one of which did happen to be Drake. Balthazar supposed that that was correct. Too many years had passed for him to start doubting his loyalties. Besides, Horvath had once tried to kill him. He could guess that they would be too close.

His cell phone started to ring. Sighing he picked it up. It was probably Dave, still going over the school with a fine tooth comb. They hadn't found anything there, but Dave was hoping that his stronger powers might turn something up. The chance was slim but Balthazar was willing to try anything at this point.

"Dave," he said, "I'm not particularly hopeful that you've found anything. If you haven't then we need you-"

"Flattering, but you're quite wrong. I'm not your snot-nosed apprentice come to complain of failure."

His fingers gripped the cell phone so hard that he thought it would break.

"Horvath."

All activity around him stopped.

"Good guess," said Horvath, "You wrote your phone number on the inside of little Lorna's backpack. It was very thoughtful of you."

He gritted his teeth. Veronica slowly walked up behind him, gripping his arm and looking at him with worried eyes. From across the room Bianca mouthed 'amplify the sound waves'. Trying to clear his mind Balthazar did the required spell so that everyone in the room could hear. Now they could try to trace it magically. Bianca was already starting the required spell. He just had to keep him talking.

"Where is she?" he hissed.

"You really think I'm going to tell you?" asked Horvath, "No, you're just asking that because you're angry. If you must know though not one hair on Lorna's head has been harmed. She's in for quite a shock when she wakes up, but she's sleeping peacefully for now."

There was a pause. When Horvath spoke again something had changed in his tone.

"She's better when her eyes are closed," he said harshly, "The little brat has your eyes you know."

The conversation had started to go downhill very quickly. He had to make sure that Horvath didn't associate Lorna too closely with him. Balthazar knew that Horvath would never actively hurt Veronica. They had fought, but that was in defense. If he saw Lorna as more of Veronica than him she would probably be safer. Hence they couldn't discuss how much she was or wasn't like him.

"Horvath," said Balthazar, "I'm going to make this simple. I'd be more than willing to trade myself for her. I won't fight, and I'll give you my word on that."

Veronica's grip on his arm had now become crushing. Everyone looked aghast. Becky was at the doorframe, her mouth slightly open in horror. They all knew that it wasn't a bluff. If that was what was needed to buy his daughter's freedom then he would gladly give it. Lorna's life was worth much more than her.

On the other end of the phone Horvath started laughing. His laughter was high and cruel, sounding somewhat insane.

"After all this time you really think that it would be enough to just kill you?" laughed Horvath, "Oh, that is far too much."

The shocked silence was overwhelming.

"Then what is it you want?" asked Balthazar desperately.

"I want you to suffer," he said, "I want you to wish that I had killed you many, many years ago. Quite honestly I can't think of anything more harrowing then to know that I held your little princess of a daughter."

He felt like he was going to be physically sick.

"Oh yes, speaking of which; why on earth would you let her dress like a Disney princess so often?" he asked, "I always thought that encouraged bad character traits."

Balthazar sucked his breath in.

"How do you know that?"

"You'd be surprised what I know," said Horvath, "I fished around in your little daughter's memories, just the top layer, wouldn't want to injure the brat, and I found some interesting things. Any chance our strangely-alive Becky would have a girl this time around? I can't believe that Dave even managed to get her pregnant in the first place?"

Becky flushed in anger and Balthazar had to remind himself to remain calm. Veronica's presence so close to him was a godsend.

"No, don't answer that," laughed Horvath, "But you probably want to know how to get Lorna back in the first place. Well, I'm going to tell you, just so you know; that that's not going to happen."

His laughter stabbed Balthazar's mind like a physical weapon.

"Not yet anyway," he said, "But I do plan on killing her in exactly one day. That starts now to be generous. Unless…"

"Unless what?" Balthazar half-screamed.

"Unless you give me one of the Prime Merlinian's children. Just leave him in Battery Park, I'll find him," he said, "Destroying part of the bloodline of Merlin would be quite a nice addition to my vengeance. He'd be killed almost immediately of course, but Lorna would live for some time until I ask for the next one and so on. I'll figure out another arrangement when you run out."

There seemed to be no strength left in him anymore. He looked helplessly at Veronica who stared at him back, a mirror of his expression.

"I'll be going now-"

Bianca shook her head; she didn't have the location yet. It was happening too fast.

"But let me put it this way; the only real choice here is which one of you is going to be short a child, because one will die tomorrow. Happy Halloween," laughed Horvath.

The phone hung up.


	95. Prompt 40: Minion

40. Minion

Drake Stone hurried back to his apartment. He had gotten the call from Bianca less than five minutes ago. When he had been first given his assignment he was told that he was not to return back to New York unless there was an emergency The words 'Balthazar's daughter has been captured by Horvath' constituted an emergency to him. He'd punch out anyone who said differently.

Personally he didn't really have any sort of connection with the girl. The two of them had met once when he had gone to the Chrysler building to explain to Bianca what he was doing there. From what he had seen she was an energetic girl. Ashley had once remarked to him how Dave was training her and how there had been a bit of controversy over that. Other than those two tidbits of time she was a virtual stranger.

That didn't mean that he was heartless and didn't care. He certainly felt sorry for her; eight year olds shouldn't be kidnapped, especially by someone with a grudge against her father. The fact that that grudge had gotten to the point that to call it fanatical would be an understatement wasn't good either.

The fact of the matter was that he saw the problem in bigger terms than it currently was. He had been in the covert business long enough to know that this could quickly spiral out of control though, although things already looked bleak. Lorna was likely to be Horvath's premier crime. If he joined up with the local Morganians, that could be bad. If he stayed solo it would be worse; there would be no one to even try to temper him. Either situation spelt 'shit happening' in his book.

In short it was all bad. No matter which way you looked at it, this was the biggest crisis since Mordred had risen from the grave. If things weren't stopped quickly this could go world-wide. No Merlinian wanted Maxim Horvath wandering the world again. That man killed people just because he was in a bad mood.

So when Bianca called him again on his blue tooth on his way over he knew that things were getting even worse.

"Horvath's just delivered an ultimatum," she said blankly.

"Which is?"

"He wants…" her voice became thick and she swallowed, "He says that he's going to kill Lorna in twenty-four hours."

"Shit," said Drake, "And the other part of the ultimatum?"

"He won't do it if we hand him one of Dave's sons to kill. If we do that he keeps Lorna, but he keeps her alive."

"Bloody hell!"

"My thinking exactly," she said, "Dave's just got back and he's talking with Balthazar and everyone else in the council room."

"Well, he's obviously not gonna give up his son."

"Of course not, it's sick and Horvath must know that we we're going to try to find a way out of this without sacrificing any children."

"Obviously. No one is gonna die if we can help it," agreed Drake.

He heard her sigh from the other end.

"Of course," she agreed, "But I'm not sure how we're going to pull that off this time. If we try a trick…well, it's Horvath; the most devious Morganian in history. He might be expecting us to try and pull something."

"Probably is. He's not stupid."

"Like I said, that's what we're thinking," said Bianca.

"Any ideas to combat that?" asked Drake.

"Not yet," she said, sounding frustrated, "And that's why we need you to hurry up and get your ass down here."

"Don't know exactly how much good that's going to do," said Drake, "I'd just be another body to crowd things up. And no one really likes me-"

"Get over yourself," Bianca snapped, "If Ashley's going to become Prime then I'd rather have you support her than go around moaning about your lot in life."

He blinked as he ran down the street. That was news to him. Seeing as much more important things were going on he decided to let it go.

"Where is Ashley?" he asked.

"With the rest, talking everything out," she said, "There don't seem to be any developments though, and I might be needed pretty soon. So you need to get over and I need to wrap up this conversation."

"I'm getting over there," he snapped, "I'm running to my apartment with the teleportation spell just as fast as I bleedin' can, alright? I can run a mile in eight minutes flat, so don't say that innit fast enough."

"Good," said Bianca, "But why aren't you using the teleportation ring? I know you have one."

In the world there were fewer than forty teleportation rings. There were less every day because of the specific requirements needed to make them. Once they were made they had limited uses. Because of his position Drake had one. It had only five more uses on it which he was saving for emergencies.

"The spell in the apartment's gonna work easier," he settled for, stopping briefly to catch his breath.

Somehow Bianca must've heard that he'd stopped moving. He wasn't sure how she knew, she just did.

"Just get down quickly," said Bianca.

"Alright!" he snapped, running again, "Like I said, I don't see why you need me. Of course I'm gonna try and get there as soon as possible."

"We need you because you're the one who worked with Horvath the most recently," said Bianca, "I don't think he's had many opportunities to change his methods since then, considering the fact that he's been imprisoned in a mirror for the most of it."

Drake swallowed hard, his lungs burning.

"Alright," he said, "I'll be there in a few minutes."

Clicking off the call he continued running. Yes, call the former Morganian. He'll know exactly how the Morganian mind worked. It doesn't matter that he's married to a Merlinian and has been practicing Merlinian magic. It certainly didn't matter that he hasn't actually been a Morganian for over eight years. It's still in him, still in his blood.

His feet hit the pavement even harder when he ran. The worst part was that he still knew how to think like a Morganian. He hadn't been detached from that society for all of those eight years. Drake had been a spy in over seven Morganian groups since then. Oh yes, he still knew how to think like a Morganian.

However, he would have to get over this little insecurity. Ashley had gotten past it to marry him, and she was a Merlinian poster child. Times were changing and he couldn't afford to let his past drag him down, not in this situation, not ever. It was quite possible that he was the only one who saw it tin that way anymore. They were desperate and needed any and all resources that they could get their hands on.

Put that way it was completely different. He reached his apartment and unlocked the door. Drake slammed it shut behind him and hurried to the back room. That was where he kept his teleportation spell, all neatly drawn up with a full Merlinian Circle. As he started to draw up the final touches he thought back to the man whose minion he had once been.

True, they hadn't worked together for very long. Yet, he had picked up on a couple of his tactics. He remembered when Horvath had kidnapped Becky. That had been very straightforward. He wanted Merlin's ring. When he was given what he wanted he stopped; Becky was no longer important as a hostage or otherwise.

That could be used; if Dave had had back up it could've been used against him. This was different; he wanted to see Balthazar suffer. His goals were of a different sort, almost unique. Drake wasn't sure how that could be turned against him. Theoretically no matter which child was killed Balthazar would still suffer. Dave was practically a son to him making his sons part of his family as well.

Of course, Horvath was probably expecting a trap. He didn't trust anyone. He'd never even let Drake handle the Grimhold. If he was expecting a trap though, and they were expecting him to expect a trap…hm. Drake finished his work on the spell and got in. An idea had formed into his head. He could only hope that it was a fairly decent one.


	96. Prompt 74: Retribution

74. Retribution

Things had not gone according to plan. Horvath was somewhat ashamed to admit that, but it was true. Balthazar might think that he held all of the cards, but even his ultimatum had been a deviation. Well, it hadn't, but any satisfaction that he would have taken from it was dampened a little.

It had started out good. He had been working on the mirror's defenses for years, chiseling them away. It had been a long, strenuous process that had nearly driven him mad. Still, he had kept doing it almost non-stop for nearly eight years. When he came out the glass shattered but made next to no noise. At first he had waited, consolidating his power and waiting for attackers. When none came Horvath took it as a good sign; an omen that the rest of the plan would be just as flawless.

The next step had been to get out of the building without being detected. Before getting out he had plotted out his escape route. Horvath had been in the building once before when he had been attempting to steal Lacy Steed's Arcana. That hadn't gone perfectly, but as his newest plan showed, things rarely did. That meant that he knew a few ways in and out of the Chrysler building though.

So he had escaped and looked for schools in the vicinity of the Arcana Cabana. There were only three and one was a high school. The first one he went by and got no magic coming off whatsoever. Horvath had hurried to the second before school let out. There he was nearly slammed with the force of potential there. A good chunk of it was faint, like the sorcerers were no longer there but had been recently. Dave's children must go there too, which was something to keep in mind if other parts of the plan went through.

Before he knew it the bell had started to ring. Horvath had walked around the corner and transformed a random car before getting in. Balthazar had made the mistake of choosing a singularly unique car to drive in. Lorna had probably never seen another model of her father's car. He'd watched with near glee as even the teacher had seemed to recognize it as the car that had come to pick Lorna off.

He'd nearly laughed out loud when she came skipping up, completely oblivious to what was going to happen next. She had gotten into the back seat and slung her backpack to the other side. He hadn't been surprised to see that it was a Disney Princess design. If he was correct it was Halloween, time for her to be dressing up like another cartoon character. Her ski jacket obscured her costume, but the cord circlet on her head left no doubts that she was once again a princess of some sort.

Not even looking up Lorna had buckled up. By that point Horvath had already started driving off. She had frowned when he did that; he could see that through the review mirror. The whole situation was highly amusing. The disguise he was wearing was doing her job as she looked up and her frown deepened.

"You're not supposed to start drivin' until I'm buckled in," she chided, "You always told me that and you know mama gets mad when you do that."

He had nearly lost it there. What was he teaching his daughter? If he remembered correctly from his childhood then children were supposed to be seen and not heard. His father had always enforced that. Going to Merlin had seemed like a breath of fresh air, but he had seen the value of silence from children from then on.

"And you haven't asked me how my day was," said Lorna slowly, "You…you always do that…why…?"

That had surprised him. She had caught on much faster than she was supposed to. In fact he saw that she was starting to twist the ring on her finger a little nervously. That wasn't going to do much good, but he saw that she was starting to unbuckle herself. The little girl was getting ready to run.

With a flick of his wrist he sent a spell at her. It hit her quickly, knocking her into a deep sleep almost instantly. It was almost perfect, and a little easy. If she had been a little older then she would've put up more of a fight; he was sure of that. However, she was never going to be a little older. Horvath was going to make sure of that.

Turning a corner he pulled under an abandoned tunnel. He ripped off the disguise. Horvath had never been very good with them. The feeling of being in someone else's skin was uncomfortable beyond belief. In all of his years he'd never been able to imitate voices well and the lips of his disguise had never matched up with his words. That had been why he was so reluctant to speak around Lorna.

He stressed his shoulders. The fresh air was still wonderful to him. Being cooped up in a mirror for over eight years tended to leave one feeling claustrophobic. The urn had been worse, of course, and the Grimhold even worse. It was disquieting to think of the many places that he had been trapped over the past years. No matter. He opened the door to the back of the car to complete the next part of his plan.

This was where things went wrong. He had originally planned to kill Lorna at that point. Horvath would then hide the body and do something to keep it from rotting. For the sake of his plans it would be perfectly unharmed but one hundred percent dead. The lie about her sleeping continually would work perfectly if Balthazar ever demanded to see evidence. Horvath couldn't have thought of a better retribution to his nemesis than to have him sacrifice Dave's children one after another for a girl who was already dead.

Of course, Balthazar might not take the bait. They might try to lay a trap, which he was prepared for. Horvath suspected he would comply though; he would do anything for Lorna. Still, her being dead served his purposes either way. Lorna being dead was an integral part of the plan. this had gone over in his mind a few times as he opened the car door to get a clear shot at the sleeping child.

"_I like you," she said, "You're funny."_

She looked so peaceful that Horvath hesitated. There was much he knew about this girl from their conversations, which she had been kind enough to perpetuate. He knew about her hopes and dreams and how she was a ballerina. He knew that she liked broccoli but hated corn and that her favorite ice cream flavor was pineapple.

Lorna did look a lot like Veronica too. She was very much like her; except for her eyes. They were the same shade as Balthazar's and carried a superior logic. Horvath had been disquieted by that even before he knew she was Balthazar's child. No child should have eyes that could go from laughing to judging in a heartbeat.

It didn't matter who she looked like more though. Veronica or Balthazar, it was all the same. They had both betrayed him in their own ways. Balthazar had betrayed him more than Veronica, but it was there all the same. Then they had sealed that by mingling their flesh in the girl. He could still remember Veronica's words, words that left bile in his throat.

"_Because I loved him," she said, "We were so alike, even from an early age. I think that perhaps we were made for each other, certainly we were prophesized about. And when love comes you don't turn it away. You and I…we were better when we were brother and sister. That is how we belonged. I can honestly say that I never-"_

_"Never?" he interrupted, sounding miserable._

_"Never."_

Never. That was what she said. That was enough, that was by far enough for him to hate her more than he'd ever hated anything. So he quietly extended his hand and placed it on Lorna's forehead. He rummaged in her mind, just to figure out what was going on. His breath hitched a little at some of it but he shook it off. Lorna was going to die, he had already decided. His ring started to glow and he cleared his mind of everything except the spell that he was performing.

Suddenly his hand was thrown back. Shocked he looked down at Lorna. There was no way she could've repelled that, awake or not. The spell he was using was far beyond the powers of an eight-year old. However, on her forehead he saw a silver mark light up. It glowed a little protectively as if to warn him off.

Lorna was fairy blest, fairy protected. Horvath swore out loud, angry at the postponement and the flicker of relief that flared up. This ruined everything. She had some of the most ancient protection on her in the world. The level of its strength was rare and could take a very long time to remove. Still swearing he had slammed the door shut and gotten back in the driver's seat. Fuming he had changed the car but stayed inside of it.

There was nothing to it but to go ahead with the plan. Opening her backpack he found a phone number. He dialed it on a cell phone that he had found inside of the car. It was possible that they didn't know that she was protected to that extent. Perhaps they thought it just applied to bruises and cuts.

Balthazar's panic in his voice had let him know that he was right in that respect. That was a source of everlasting relief.

"Where is she?" Balthazar had hissed.

"You really think I'm going to tell you?" asked Horvath, feeling smug, "No, you're just asking that because you're angry. If you must know though not one hair on Lorna's head has been harmed. She's in for quite a shock when she wakes up, but she's sleeping peacefully for now."

The fact was that he **couldn't **harm a hair on her head and he was having doubts about how much he wanted to. They didn't need to know that though, he'd be over it soon. Maxim Horvath could kill anything. He could feel them trying to trace the call and he smirked. Well, he'd just hang up soon. Clicking the phone off he let out a sigh. Things might not be perfect, but they were still salvageable. Everything could go ahead as planned.


	97. Prompt 88: Wood

88. Wood

Kevin was next to horrified. He'd been to Battery Park in the daytime with his mother. He had always believed that there should be a monument to his father. It wasn't every day that a twenty-year old college student defeated the greatest threat the world had ever seen. Still, they were supposed to keep their magic a secret. He understood that.

The place had always made him feel confident and safe. In the sunshine it had always been beautiful and vibrant. His father was powerful and strong and this was where he had proved it. Now it didn't lend that comfort, probably in part because it was night. Kevin felt small and uncomfortable. These things were beyond his comprehension and his belief; something rather awful was going to happen.

Lorna had been kidnapped by Horvath, one of Morgana's top men. It was like a fairytale going wrong. The little girl who had been so very tough and had started magic training before him had been kidnapped. She had been the one to teach them how to eavesdrop, so he and Eli had heard the entire phone conversation with Horvath. Not for one minute had he believed that his father would let anything happen to him, not even for Lorna who Kevin wanted so desperately to be alright. She had been his first friend.

So the fact that he was all alone in Battery Park twenty-four hours after Horvath had called made him feel a little strange. He was kind of scared now, but he wasn't going to let it get to him. No matter what happened he was going to be okay. His father would protect him. Nothing was going to happen to him.

When the man in the bowler hat walked up he felt those pangs of fear again. Kevin swallowed hard and forced them down. He swirled his hand almost idly in the fountain, not ready to look at him straight in the eye. The reflection was enough to let him know what was going on. And no matter what, he wasn't going to be scared.

"Balthazar?" called Horvath, "The bait isn't working."

Kevin wouldn't turn around yet. He wouldn't.

"You can come out now!"

His pulse was pounding in his ears. Closing his eyes he wished himself a million miles away. He was playing Prime Merlinian with his brother and Lorna. Sam was there too, being Becky. It was his turn to play his father and he was doing it beautifully. There he was defeating Morgana.

"Might as well."

And he heard the crackle of electricity. Kevin chose this moment to turn around and stare Horvath in the eye. He might be six and not know why the leaves on the trees changed colors, but he was more than that. He was Kevin Stutler and he had the blood of Merlin in him. His parents were David Stutler and Becky Barnes. If anyone could stare at oncoming horrors calmly, it was him.

.

.

.

This was getting ridiculous. First there had been that moment of hesitation with Lorna. Now, staring at this boy's green eyes, he felt a certain degree of reluctance. It was only a flicker, much less than what he had felt with Lorna. It wasn't because he was a child. What was it though, what was it?

"_Of course Kevin and Eli are jealous," she confided, "They're not gonna be apprentices for two more years. Sorta. They're five now."_

_ "These are your friends, yes?" he asked, now back on track and on high alert, "Brothers right? Twins?"_

_ "Yup," she said, tugging on her hair that she had allowed to flow loose around her shoulders, "They're storm troopers this year. No, one's a storm trooper, Eli, and the other's Luke Skywalker. That's Kevin. Their Dad likes Star Wars so of course they do. I like Star Wars too but there's not enough magic. The swords are cool though. I wish I had a sword."_

_Somehow the image of the child-faerie with a sword made him laugh. Not knowing the joke Lorna started to laugh along with him._

"_But they're more like brothers. Not friends," she explained._

Furious he threw the blue electricity at the boy, only to see it bounce off of a shield that had been cast around him. Horvath saw movement in the shadows. He shot the remaining electricity at the shape instead, who ducked and rolled. He could see that it was Dave, thirty now and not looking quite so awkward. Horvath laughed out loud but kept in mind that this was the boy who had killed Morgana and Mordred.

"Unoriginal Dave," he said, "Very unoriginal."

A plasma bolt was shot at him. Horvath deflected it and shot fire at him. Dave dodged and ran sideways. A wall of water from the fountain flew out and pushed him back several yards. He was obviously trying to get him away from the boy and shove him backwards. They had never had any intention of giving him up.

Who cared though? He could still carry out his threat, or make them believe that he had at any rate. It would be easy to make Lorna look dead in a picture. Sleep and death were similar; all he needed to do was splash some corn syrup and red dye around her neck. Having her alive while they thought she was dead would be a fine joke as well as the other way around.

So he turned and hurried backwards towards the car where he had left her. He had installed several wards on it, but she was still there. He was cut off by Balthazar and Veronica. Typical. First came Dave and then them. He sent fire after them and hurried onwards. If need be he would summon up a few monsters to keep them occupied. Nothing could get through the shields he had up now.

Or almost nothing. He rushed towards the car but was thrown back by an invisible force that came from his left. His shields shattered under the impact. Landing on his back he scrambled up to see Dave advancing on him. Light was glowing from his palms. From behind him he saw Bianca and the girl with the bow approaching. There were several other Merlinians approaching as well.

Moving fast he went to get up. Lightning struck at the base of a tree next to him, bringing it down. Wood flew in the air and it blocked his exit. Turning another way more trees came down, one after another. They were enlarged by a spell, the thickness of centuries-old oaks when they should've been trapped. It was a fence to keep him in.

He glared at Dave who had felled trees on all sides but his, but he knew there was no way he could get past the Prime Merlinian. He had been boxed in, thinking that Dave had attacked him at first and the brunt of the attack was over. There had been no way he could move this fast though; not unless he was using teleportation. He didn't think he was though.

Looking back he saw another Dave approach. He blinked and saw the first Dave wipe his face with his hand. His features melted away and he saw angry but smug eyes staring back at him. Horvath frowned. It had been several years since he had seen that expression on anyone; that of a cat who'd ate not just the canary but the dog as well.

"I killed you," said Horvath, "But I suppose I didn't do a good enough job."

"Nope," Drake said cheerfully.

"I'll have to do better this time."

"Yeah right. No one gets to threaten him but me," the girl with the bow said, pulling the string taut.

That was an interesting interlude.

"Where's my daughter Horvath?" demanded Balthazar.

"Who?" he asked innocently, still trying to find a way out.

"Don't pretend to be stupid. Where is she?"

He might have answered with a smart-mouth remark if there hadn't been an explosion to his left. The Merlinians turned towards it. They clearly hadn't planned it. Horvath took the opportunity to call down lightning and press his way through. In all of the chaos that followed it was all too easy to slip between their ranks and over the trees. Balthazar began shouting and he felt Veronica's magic feeling for him. It was too late though; they had lost their chance.

An arrow shot into the ground next to him. Force waves spread out from it, nearly incapacitating him. More arrows were landing around him. Horvath had always hated archers and now he remembered why. He had to stay continuously on his toes in order to make it to the car in one piece.

Another arrow nearly landed in his shoulder. Brandishing his cane he went to deflect it but it was blown off course at the last minute. Turning his head Horvath saw a man in his mid-thirties with his hand outstretched. His hair was an oily black, glistening only a little more than his black clothes. The only splash of color was red armbands; Morganians these days had really gone downhill in his absence. He gave Horvath a smirk that put him in mind of a weasel; a weasel with rabies.

"I'm Simon Grant, newly appointed head of the New York Morganians," he said over the rage of battle, "I'd just like to say, I'm an awfully big fan."


	98. Prompt 33: Forest

33. Forest

"Step on it!"

Dave put his foot on the gas pedal. They hurtled after Horvath's car in the darkness. They had almost had him; they had been so close! All he could do was curse himself that they hadn't paid more attention to anyone entering the area. All they had done was the usual protections against magonisis wandering in. It had been suggested that anything more would have made Horvath suspicious.

Now they were hurtling after a car containing Horvath and Simon Grant. None of this was good. The only thing that had happened was that they had heard that he had Lorna with him. Now Balthazar was trying to magically make the engine go faster. Veronica was in another car with Ashley, Bianca, and Michael. That car was going around a different way, hoping to cut off Horvath.

Two Morganian cars were on their tail, although Drake was doing his best to stop them. That guy was dropping all sorts of things from his pockets; most that Dave had never seen the like of before. They made what he'd try to do in his first car chase look like a child's toys. Even as he glanced in the review mirror one of the cars exploded and flipped on his side. No one was messing around tonight.

Originally they had had three cars. Jack had been wounded in the firefight and he'd been driven back. Julian was with him, as was Kevin. Dave had layered spell upon spell of protection on his son before letting him be used as bait. He had violently protested, but Kevin had agreed to it and he hadn't seen any other option. At least his son was still safe and on his way back to the Chrysler building.

Tabitha was with them. She was on stand-by in case anyone else was injured. Her own spells had been added to the car to make sure that the rubber of the wheels didn't burn away. She was calm, collected, and mad as hell. Veronica had been her master and she liked Lorna. The girl in the back was a far cry from the child that Dave had first seen so many years ago.

Suddenly a phone rang. Frowning in annoyance Tabitha had picked it up and put it to her ear.

"Oh, right," she said, her face going blank, "Kevin's fine, he's on his way back-wait, what? You do know he's driving right?"

Her face contorted.

"Yeah, sorry. Of course you know."

Pulling the phone away she called;

"Dave, your wife's calling!"

She tossed him the phone. He caught it, executing a particularly sharp turn.

"Becky, kind of not the time," he said.

"Seer, remember?" asked Becky on the other end, "Dave, he's heading to Central Park. Or he's going to end up there anyway."

"Great, we'll just cut him off and-"

"No," said Becky, "You're going to have to drive him there. I've seen it. You and Bianca. She's driving the other car. She's going to come in from the left, going somewhere around 90 miles per hour, you're going to come from behind, and he's going to have to turn right. That'll lead him to Central Park."

"So we have to get him to Central Park?" asked Dave, "How are we supposed to find him there? The place is practically a forest?"

"Yes. I've opened the last envelope that my grandmother gave us," said Becky, sounding strained, "It sparked a vision for me. Horvath's going to make some sort of choice there…on the far north of the lake. They need to be there for Lorna."

"Okay, I've got it."

"Not quite. You've got to let Balthazar off here, and don't stop the car."

"What?" asked Dave, looking over at his former master momentarily.

Smoke started to pour from the car in front of them. Horvath was up to his old tricks again.

"Dave, you know that I wouldn't kid about this. You have to stay the same speed but he has to get out, otherwise you'll lose him. I know I shouldn't have…but I looked at their last envelope too. He and Veronica have to be there. He needs to be there first though. Have Tabitha call Ashley after I'm done here, got it?"

"I've got it," he said.

Clicking off the phone he made another sharp turn and enhanced the headlights. They cut through the smoke and allowed him to see the car in front of them. Then he threw the phone back at a very surprised Tabitha. The smoke cleared and he stepped so hard on the gas pedal that he thought it was going to break.

"Call Ashley and tell her that Becky says Veronica needs to get out of the car, but not to slow down," he ordered.

"Are you crazy-?"

Feeling a vein throb in his head Dave raised his hand and widened his two fingers about an inch.

"Little bit," said Tabitha, "I should've known."

"Dave," Balthazar said, "What's going on?"

"You've got to get out now," said Dave, "You have to get to the north most part of Central Park's lake and you've got to do it as fast as possible. Becky says so, so does Lacy apparently. You need to be there for Lorna."

Balthazar knew better than to question him. He flung open the door of the car and jumped out. Dave saw the glimmer of a shield before he had to speed past the area. Drake reached over the front seat and slammed the car door shut before it could do any damage to the car. Then he slumped back and looked at the remaining car chasing them.

"Hope your wife knows what she's doin' Wonder Boy."

"She does," muttered Dave, "She does."

.

.

.

Horvath had known Simon Grant for ten minutes and he already wanted to kill him. He was just so irritatingly smug and self-satisfied. Drake Stone had looked like a model Morganian soldier compared to this idiot. Horvath also didn't like the expression of malice he had on his face when he looked at Lorna.

"So what's holding you up from offing her?" asked Simon, navigating the streets nonchalantly.

"Fairy blessed," he said shortly.

"No kidding?" asked Simon, "But seriously, that can be removed easily enough. We'll just need to lose these idiots first."

"That shouldn't be so hard. After all, you've done such a good job already," Horvath said, looking at the car hurtling after him.

They had gotten too good to try the smoke trick. He would've tried something else if he hadn't seen that Lorna was starting to show signs of waking up. Horvath started to renew the sleeping spell when a car came screeching in from the left. It wasn't one of the Morganian ones, so it appeared that Merlinians weren't above driving down one-way streets the wrong way when it suited them.

Simon jerked the car to the right, running it right over the curb. Metal fences crunched beneath the car's wheels and they drove over grass and into a forested area. The car crashed into a tree, jerking Horvath forward. From behind he heard Lorna give a small mewl of surprise as she awoke. He turned and narrowed his eyes at Simon.

"Your incompetence is astounding."

Without waiting for an answer Horvath flung the car door open. He hurried out and opened the back car door. Lorna blinked at him in surprise.

"Mirror man?" she asked blearily.

From the other side Simon grabbed her and hauled her to her feet. She started kicking wildly, understanding what was going on quickly. Lorna was quick on the uptake.

"_I'm four now," she declared._

"_I'd have never guessed."_

"_You could pretend to say six or somethin'," she said, "Most other people do that."_

_Horvath found that, despite himself, he was intrigued. Most children wouldn't pick up on things like that._

"We'll go through the trees, right?" asked Simon, "Best way to avoid them?"

Horvath nodded. There was no way to fix the time before. Lorna fixed her eyes on him. They were judgmental, angry, and betrayed. She was her father's daughter in every way.


	99. Prompt 10: Evil

10. Evil

Her feet smacked down on the pavement. She had to stop for a few seconds and was ashamed. Those seconds allowed Veronica to take a breath but they were also precious. She was in a situation where every second counted and she was stopping. Taking a deep breath she climbed over the locked fence and got to the other side.

Veronica had never been able to keep up with Horvath and Balthazar. It was a fact of life that she had gotten used to over the years. Upon first entering the Keep she had always thought that she would be eternally excluded from them by virtue of it. Only when they were older did she fell more included, like a member of their little clique. They had made her feel like she belonged with them.

Things were different when they were running; that feeling of exclusion would come back in full force. They had always been faster than her when she was younger and would leave her behind. This might have been because of the age difference, but the simple fact was that she hadn't been able to keep up. Mostly they had waited for her, but when they were running in a raceall bets were off.

Many of her childhood memories were of her trying to catch them, her eyes on her backs. These were sad memories; and she had few when she was a little girl at Merlin's Keep. For most of her life she had struggled to catch them; surpassing them both in everything but this, swordplay, and archery. They never seemed far away when they worked with weapons though. They did when they ran.

Mounted she had been able to outdistance them. Unlike them she had spent most of her life around horses and had what her mother called 'the touch'. She had used that as her consolation. When they were just straight outrunning she never could. That thought played over and over in her head as she ran through the buildings to get to the lake in Central Park. Horvath had a head start, and he was probably running. Balthazar had a chance of catching him if he hurried up. She probably didn't have much of a prayer.

Closing her eyes she saw their backs again as they ran. They all knew the grounds very well and had jumped over tree stumps and rocks. It was a maze; it was their game, one of the few without magic. Their races had stopped when she was twelve and had fallen and hurt herself. They had both taken her back to the castle and Merlin had forbade them from ever doing it again. They had stopped because of her.

Her eyes opened. They weren't children anymore, playing some harmless game. All of them were more than grown. She had a daughter who was probably frightened out of her wits. It didn't matter if she hadn't been able to be fast enough in the past. She would be fast enough this time; there wasn't any option for her not to be.

Becky had told her where she needed to be. This was Becky, a powerful seer who knew how much she loved her daughter. She was due to have her own soon, a girl who she'd already named Elizabeth and nicknamed her Beth. This was a woman who had two sons of her own as well. She understood about Lorna.

From behind her she heard footsteps. Craning her neck she saw that Balthazar was drawing pace with her. That surprised her. Until then she had been holding onto the slight hope that he had already caught up with them and gotten their daughter back. Apparently not. Neither of them said a word, although she had no doubt that they were both thinking only of their destination.

.

.

.

"She isn't moving fast enough!" complained Simon.

Horvath wanted to hurt Simon, wanted to wound him. Mortally. His level of stupidity was astounding. Of course Lorna was in no hurry. He had let her know that people were coming for her. What child, what **adult** for that matter, would try to run away from deliverance? Morganians were going downhill, or maybe he had just had the misfortune to run into some very stupid ones.

He sighed as they hurried along. They were going alongside a lake now. This whole thing seemed like a sham, and it seemed repugnant. He had held children before, had even tortured Lacy Steed when she was thirteen. Somehow this was different though. If anything he should be excited and he couldn't place his finger on why he wasn't.

It wasn't because she looked like Veronica. No; he had settled the fact that she was as bad as Balthazar in the matter. He had heard quite a bit about her though. If she had been some sort of abstract face then it would be easier. It was too late for that though. He'd heard about how she wanted to be a great sorceress and to dance the lead in her class's performance of _The Nutcracker_. He never did find out if she'd gotten it and he couldn't ask her now. That made him hate what he was doing even more.

Every now and then Lorna would look back at him. There was hurt there but perhaps judgment had been too strong of a word. He remembered when he had first tried to kill Balthazar in the market in Glastonbury. He had looked into his eyes, thinking that he would get some sort of satisfaction. They had been too full of shock and despair to have anger in them. Only Veronica had been angry in his presence, shoving other feelings out in order to protect Balthazar. She did have her father's eyes then with that expression.

"_Maxim," he said, his voice sounding tinny, "Maxim we grew up together. We blew up the North tower of the Keep the first time we tried to transfigure a chair, fought Mordred and the Orkney brothers in the mud. There was that time we snuck out for a tournament and when we both escaped that ball through the window. We saved Queen Guinevere, fought countless evils, you pulled me out of a fire. Don't you remember that?"_

_Horvath nodded._

"_Yes, yes I do," he said, "But I don't care."_

And now Lorna's eyes spoke of their conversations. She was probably going over them in her head, looking for signs that would have given her a clue as to his attention. Horvath remembered her looking forward to seeing a movie and becoming an apprentice. He remembered them all and he didn't care about that either.

They hurried on and he scolded himself. Of course he cared; he had even cared when Balthazar had made that final appeal. That was the root of the entire problem. The fact that he did care meant that he was more evil than if he didn't care. It meant that he was human enough to see that what he was doing was wrong, and he went ahead and did it anyway. He didn't have to, and yet here he was, doing it.

Again she looked at him. He felt her eyes skim over him in that strange mixture. During his childhood Horvath had never been one for fairytales. Over the years he had heard them though. In some versions of _Little Red Riding Hood _he had heard that the wolf had had a long conversation with Little Red Riding Hood. All the time though he had known that he was going to eat her at one point.

Taken in that sense the story was a little too close for comfort. Her grandmother couldn't have been the only thing that they discussed. Horvath found himself wondering about the wolf. It was killed in the end of course, but he wondered about before. Did it feel any remorse that it was going to eat the small child who had given him her trust so unconditionally? Was it even a little upset as it ate the grandmother the girl said she loved so much?

"Her ski jacket's snagging on the branches. It's slowing us down," Simon snapped.

Horvath looked at him apathetically, still thinking about the wolf. The ski jacket was taken off and Lorna looked at him. She was cold now; it was a cold night. Her gown though, her gown was medieval. Due to his calculations she was around eight now, but she did look like she could be a little older.

_Whatever punishment Merlin had in mind was drowned out by laughter. As one the assembly turned to see a small girl standing just outside of the litter that Morgause had come from. She was bent over double, laughing so hard that she was crying. Her laugh was somehow infectious and soon Morgause had joined in with her. Even Merlin let out a wry chuckle._

_"Well," he said, "I had intended to introduce my old apprentices to my new one. But two mud-splattered ruffians will have to do."_

_He jerked his head and the girl stopped laughing and scurried up. She gave a small curtsey as Merlin said;_

_"Veronica, this is Balthazar and Horvath, the boys who will be carrying all of your things, and several articles of__** very**__ heavy furniture, up to your new room at the top of the tower."_

_As one both boys groaned. _

Things had been simpler then. They had been friends and he had ruined that. He could see that now, probably had known it for a very long time. No matter how much he blamed Balthazar and Veronica for falling in love it had been his fault. And now he was trying to kill their daughter in vengeance. He was pretty sure he hadn't really wanted to when he captured her. There had been ways to circumvent fairy blessings, but he had never even thought about it. It had relieved him that he hadn't had to. Horvath swallowed.

"Know what?" asked Simon, "I don't think fairy blessings protect against water. I'll just drown her and then we can get going. It'll slow them down when they see her."

Simon dragged her towards the lake. Horvath watched as he thrust Lorna's head under the water. She started kicking and splashing but she was only eight. He watched, blinking tiredly as his defense for over a thousand years began to crumble. Was he evil enough to let this happen and not do anything? At one point he would have been. He wasn't so sure anymore.


	100. Prompt 35: Lake

35. Lake

The water from the lake was flooding into Lorna's mouth and nose. She had had swimming lessons, but no one held you under during them. There was no way that she could clear her mind enough to gather up a spell to help her. Then again, she had just started her apprenticeship a few months ago. She didn't have the knowledge to make a spell to give herself oxygen. This man had obviously been counting on that.

Nonetheless she kept struggling. She kicked at him, determined to give him bruises at least. Lorna was angry, angry at him, at the Mirror man, and at herself. She had been Little Red Riding Hood. She had talked to the wolf and then gone off skipping right into his jaws. How stupid could she get? The only difference between her and Little Red Riding Hood was that she had known better. That made her stupidity all the worse.

_"'s my first Hallow-een," she said proudly, "I get to go trick-or-treating with my parents. I wanted to be Alice."_

_"So I see."_

_"My mother made this," said Lorna, twirling in her outfit, "Much better than what they sell in the stores. I think so, don't you?"_

_"I wouldn't know."_

_"You know," she said, sitting down on the ground in front of the mirror cross-legged, "You're in a mirror. Does that mean you're a ghost or something?"_

_The question seemed to amuse him._

_"Would you be scared if I was?" he asked._

_"Nope," she said, popping the 'p', "Not at all. I've seen lots o' ghosts an' I'm gonna see lots more."_

How could she have been so stupid as to tell him all of those things? The world was starting to swirl and clog around her. A burning started in her chest. She was going to die and she wasn't going to be able to do anything about it. There was too much that she hadn't done and seen and now she was going to die in a stupid lake. Lorna would've cried if there wasn't already water all around her.

Suddenly she felt a commotion above her. A hand reached down and jerked her to the surface. Air rushed into her lungs and she coughed. Someone put her onto the shore and she coughed out some water. The air was cold and she started shivering. Then a warm coat was placed around her shoulders, nearly drowning her in it. Opening her eyes against the sting of the water she saw Mirror man, the one the other man had called Horvath, with his hand on her back.

For a minute she stared, too surprised to do much else but blink.

"What the hell!" demanded the other man, "It would've only taken a few more seconds!"

"There's been a change of plans," said Horvath, getting up, "We're not going to be killing her."

The other man's mouth fell open.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

"Deadly serious," said Horvath, "You can go now."

"You're not just sending me away," snapped the other man, "This is a great opportunity for all Morganians in the city. She's Balthazar and Veronica's daughter, the apprentice of the damned Prime Merlinian himself!"

"I'm aware of who she is," Horvath said, his voice low, "And I repeat; you can go now."

The man took a deep breath, his face turning a deep shade of red. Lorna saw his stone glow and he shot flames at Horvath. He quickly threw the water of the lake at him, putting out the flames. Lightning came from Horvath's cane, only to be deflected by the other man. She quickly scrambled between the trees.

She peeked out. They were fighting in the full glory of a sorcerer's duel, but they were both fighting dirty. This was like nothing she had seen before. Quickly she abandoned her tree during the fight and moved around. Horvath was obviously stronger, but the other man was quicker than him.

Quietly Lorna abandoned the coat that Horvath had given her. It was cold and she was wet, but she started climbing up the tree. This was something that Eli had taught her how to do. She was master of everything else, but she could never seem to get tree climbing right. He had also taught her this trick. It would've made her parents mad if they saw it.

Checking her position she saw that she was right over the man that had tried to drown her. Carefully she continued along the tree limb that she was at. Lorna did a quick calculation of the distance. It would work; she had the confidence that it would. She wasn't about to die after nearly being drowned.

Securing her grip on the tree limb she swung down. Her feet kicked the man in the head, knocking him down. Her momentum carried her back onto the tree branch again and she headed for cover. There was a flash of light and she knew without looking that Horvath had killed the other man. Lorna hoped that that meant that he was safe now.

Horvath looked up at her. Slowly she climbed downwards. Lorna wrapped the coat around herself again and approached. Horvath was kneeling, looking tired and worn. There was a cut on his forehead; she didn't know how it got there. Barely even thinking about it she reached out and healed it with a spell that she'd learned last week.

He looked up, obviously surprised. Feeling nervous, and hoping beyond hope that she wasn't being stupid again, she smiled and said;

"All better Mirror man."

"Not really," he said, shaking his head, "But you have my thanks."

Footsteps thundered through the bracken. Lorna looked up to see both of her parents come to a halt, taking in the scene. Relief took over her. Taking off the coat she ran towards them, flinging herself into her mother's arms. Although she had been told just the other day that she was getting a little old to be picked up she was, and was held tightly.

Her father's arms joined her mother's and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt it was over. For a minute everything was perfect. Then that minute was over and her parents were back to looking at the dead body, traces of magic, and Horvath. Lorna watched as he got up and they stared at each other, none of them saying a word. They were smart enough to figure out from the way the magic laid that he had saved their daughter's life.

Years from then Lorna would look into the Incantus, doing advanced study for her certification as a master. Of the brief battle in Central Park it would say; "In the ensuing battle Simon Grant was killed by Horvath. Balthazar and Veronica arrived to claim their daughter and Horvath was defeated."

She would know that this had been interpreted in many ways. Some say that Balthazar finally killed Horvath; others that he had run away before they arrived and left Lorna to buy himself time. The Incantus was, in its own way, living and left a good deal up to the way that a sorcerer would read it.

None of those were right though. Lorna knew because she was there.

"I'm sorry I ruined us," Horvath said after a time.

Veronica had nodded. In the years to come Lorna would understand that he wasn't talking about their lives. He was talking about what they had been; Merlin's three apprentices. He was talking about the alliance that had once made Morganians tremble, the suit of armor for the world that had not a chink in it because of their strength and trust.

"So am I," Balthazar had said.

And when she understood Horvath's words she would come to know that her father was talking about much the same thing. Then Horvath picked up his coat and gave a brief nod to Lorna. She nodded back and Horvath walked, not ran, away. She would never see him again; and in its own way, that was as it should be.

They watched for a little while before her parents turned, as a group, and took her away from the lake that she had nearly drowned in. It would be a silent trip. From time to time Lorna would snuggle a little closer to her parents and they'd grip her tighter. She soon became quite sleepy; exhausted from everything that had happened. Enchanted sleep didn't give the same rest as real sleep.

After a while they met Dave and the rest of the Merlinians hurrying towards them. They saw Lorna almost immediately and let out a sigh of relief. Many of them had a few cuts but no serious injuries. The next thing that happened the Incantus was very clear about, leaving it completely closed to interpretation.

"Where's Horvath?" Dave had asked, "And Simon, we think that-"

"They've both been taken care of," replied Balthazar.

There had been no more questions after that, and on that the matter had been settled. The trust there was too strong for Dave to question further, and the rest of the Merlinians would not question where they knew they would not be allowed to do so. The Merlinians had simply fallen into step and headed back towards the cars, where the surviving Morganians were held captive. Veronica had reluctantly handed her over to her father as she went to help her apprentice heal the injured.

Lorna was very sleepy, but she was one hundred percent sure about what she saw next. Behind the back of the entire group of Merlinians Dave had slowly extended his right fist. Balthazar had shifted her weight and give a tired but somewhat content sigh. Then he had extended his hand and met Dave's. Knuckle bump.

-fin-

* * *

_**A/N: **__And that's the end of 'All the Right Faces', the completion of the All the Right Moves series, and the completion of __SiriusDoctorWhoHoney329__'s__Balthy 100 Challenge! Can I hear a hell yeah? This was insanely fun to do, if not insanely exhausting. Gonna be recuperating from this one for a long time, I can tell you that much. A special thanks to the constant __Kenobigirlz and Jaselin who helped me with the names of Dave and Becky's kids. Also a thanks to Arlothia who was one of my first reviews, Senendipity, nanu107, and everyone who's left a review! Sorcerer's Apprentice forever!_


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